Fuzzy Dice
by T.R. Samuels
Summary: The truth of John and Cameron’s relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it. Sequel to "Only Lonely".
1. Chapter 1

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 1  
****T.R. Samuels**

Dextrous fingers and an opposable thumb wrapped around the spiky crown of the black game piece, sliding it gently across the chequered landscape until it collided with an ashen member of the enemy faction. The digits descended further, seizing the fallen soldier and hoisting it off into oblivion.

"Check."

Cameron Phillips narrowed her eyes as she processed her opponent's move, her thoughts churning amidst the rhythmic ticking of a pale pine game clock. The move played back through her mind, the quantum network of her CPU firing countless electrons between the nodes of its circuitry as it explored every possible outcome, every strategy, scraped its detailed files to glean whatever insight it could from the psychology of her opponent.

Sitting in the opposite chair, John Connor was a stoic pillar that surrendered nothing under her scrutiny, his face as illegible as she had ever known. He reached for a nearby glass of orange juice, downing a citric mouthful to cover his smile.

"Need any help?"

Camerons' eyes narrowed even further. "I'm thinking."

She refocused on the board, devoting more and more resources to the game's solution, but an area within her mind refused to cede any more runtime, consumed with a growing concern that had been building for days. Soon all her thoughts wandered from strategy and computation to the day after San Diego, driving back to the border after uncovering Cromartie's empty grave.

Everything had been fine until Cameron had felt a sudden wave of heat and disorientation, demanding John pull over on the desolate road where she burst out of the truck, doubling over as her stomach contracted in unpleasant spasms. John had soon been at her side to help, smoothing her hair back until the ordeal had stopped and he'd helped her back in the truck, insisting she drink some water.

It had been one of the most traumatic experiences she had ever had. Her body had acted of its own accord and it only got worse a few hours later when her HUD had sprung to life, flashing warnings of a foreign invasion. A tiny mass that had begun to metabolize and divide.

It had immediately offered up the methods of how her system could attack, the options arranged in order of efficiency and cold precision.

She'd only had a split second to decide.

"Any time, Cam."

Twin pools of chocolate brown looked up, confusion in both that betrayed her minds' wanderings. She looked back down at the board and calculated her move, reaching out to select her remaining rook, sliding it into his knight before tapping the button on the clock.

As John began his contemplations Cameron questioned the wisdom of confronting him about her fears. John had not always been easy to talk to, sometimes reacting with revulsion or outright fear when she questioned him about things. Though that had been before their relationship had changed.

Five days, twenty-two hours, seventeen minutes and fourteen seconds since John had kissed her for the first time. A small eternity for a cyborg in which his reactions to her had become very important. When he was complimenting and affectionate she was happy beyond reason; when they had even the slightest disagreement she was devastated.

She did not want there to be disagreement over this.

"John…" She stopped before continuing, the words of the dreaded question suddenly becoming frightening.

"Yeah?" His hand paused midway to making a move.

She steeled her resolve, looking him straight in the eye. "Are we okay?"

If he said 'no' she had no idea what she would do.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean _us_," The words felt very difficult to get out, her fear growing of the answer. "You've been… _indifferent_ lately."

He was silent for a moment. "_Indifferent_ how?"

"Usually… we don't play _chess_ before going to bed."

John looked caught in headlights as his mind groped for a credible answer.

"Why haven't we been intimate since San Diego?"

"Well…"

"I like sex, John. I've told you that."

His silence unnerved her more than any words could, and she dared to utter the unimaginable.

"Is it because of the baby?"

"NO! Of course not! It's just…" John silenced himself, clamping down on his feelings.

Grief swelled up inside Cameron as the certainty of the root of their problems settled in her mind. John's distance, the uneasiness, all the brooding; it all fit logically into place.

"You regret my decision."

John exhaled as though it pained him, burying his face in his hands as he tried to regroup, taking a deep breath as his arms drew back to the table, looking her straight in the eye. "No I don't. It was the right choice."

Cameron frowned. "Then why have you been so distant?"

Truthfully he didn't have an answer, his mind a riddle of feelings and confusion more so than any time in his life. Judgement Day had taken a welcome backseat. He knew she was right though. He _had_ been distant. Whenever he saw her lately, half of him wanted to wrap his arms around her, the other to flee the room. Sex had been the last thing on his mind.

He felt his heart beating out of control, not at all in a good way, his body beginning a familiar sinking feeling that made him sick to his stomach and his chest short of a lung.

He couldn't deal with this. Not now. No matter how much he might want to.

He reached out, grasping a rook and moved it just a few spaces across the board.

"Checkmate."

He rose out of his chair and without another word headed for the stairs, leaving his partner in the cavernous silence of the living room.

Cameron felt a stab of emotion slice through her, forcing her to clamp down on it as hard as she could, her face a blank mask, remaining impassive as tears escaped down her round cheeks.

Her every fear had been true.

####

The sterile squeak of latex elastic was the only noise Derek Reece made as he slipped the hock pick into the keyhole, jimmying it until he felt the internal mechanisms slide free with a gratifying click. Holding the door open he waved Sarah Connor inside before retrieving his black satchel from the floor, his eyes sweeping around before following her in.

They moved quietly through the deserted offices, eyes everywhere, the air alive with the static tang of new carpet and magnolia emulsion. The lights had been dimmed to minimal levels, leaving just enough for navigation as they swung around a corner and approached their target.

"Right place?"

Sarah's gaze drifted up a vertical timber plinth to the triangular pattern of a company logo.

"Right place."

The pair moved into a secluded section partitioned off from the rest of the office, its inhabitants a wealth of electronic equipment and computer base units in the process of being assembled.

"We should have brought John." Derek admitted as he looked over the daunting assembly.

Sarah's hands were already into the guts of the machines. "We don't need to know much about computers. I know how to do this." She yanked hard, pulling the hard drive from the first computer and handing it to him. "Get the ones over there."

Derek slipped the drive into his satchel before placing it on a nearby table, moving to disassemble his first computer. He glanced at Sarah as she worked, mulling over the wisdom of voicing what had been on his mind.

"I noticed John's been acting different lately."

"Different how?"

He shrugged. "Just preoccupied. I thought after breaking up with that Riley he'd have less to think about."

There was no way Sarah was going to broach the reasons for John's preoccupation at the moment. Partly because she didn't understand them herself. Since his confession to her about his love for Cameron she'd been confident that John had made a healthy turn in his life. But since returning from Mexico, sans Cromartie, he'd been noticeably withdrawn.

"John's doing what he does best; thinking."

Derek's hard drive sprung loose from its housing. "About what?"

She detected the earnestness in his tone and knew time was running out for John to level with his uncle; tell him what was really going on with him and the machine.

It was a confrontation with Derek she didn't relish.

"There's… been some changes lately…" She half-bit the bullet.

Derek's brow knitted together, apprehension expanding in his stomach, her manner telling him just how much he was going to like this.

"Uh-huh…"

"Don't start now, Derek. Save it until we've finished breaking and entering."

Her tone left no doubt that the subject was shelved.

"Fine."

After stripping down the last computer the would-be burglars packed together their things and headed back down the building's lobby, latex gloves snapping off and shoved into pockets at the last possible moment before they were greeted by the most amenable valet Derek's gratuity could buy.

"Hey there!" The young man exclaimed, body and soul lighting up as he saw the pair. "I got your wheels right over here. Engine still running, just like you asked." He guided them over to their waiting vehicle, its engine as described and Derek slipped him several notes in reward.

"Don't spend it all at once."

The man's smile was a crescent of unnatural white as the four-wheel drive pulled off into the dark. "No promises!"

As Sarah gunned the vehicle down the inner city street she could sense the seething figure that sat beside her. After several minutes of silence however, he'd made no attempt to continue their conversation. She mulled it over in her mind, wondering whether or not to disturb the dragon.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

"Eventually."

"Well if you're going to, make it soon; I'm not having this discussion in front of John."

Derek released a great breath he'd accumulated. It was late and he'd missed dinner, too busy carrying on with his secret girlfriend; an explanation to Sarah he didn't relish.

"I get the sense that whatever you're going to tell me I'm not gonna like. Probably lead to a big argument. Right?"

"Right."

"Well then if you think I'm going to get into it while _you're_ behind the wheel, you've got another thing coming." He spoke without the slightest hint of inflection. It was either a rare attempt at humour or some nihilistic punch line, Sarah couldn't decide which.

Either way, it made her smile.

####

Pale moonlight bathed the rear patio of the Connor residence, its light casting ghostly shadows across the shapes of the garden, the great city beyond an unhallowed echo from far away. Nightfall had been many hours ago, the sun having dipped far beneath the horizon to allow the stars to shine amidst the white halo of their lunar guardian.

Cameron liked the night. A strange fate for her feelings after so long a time in the darkness of the future. But _that_ night had been different, yielding no greater brightness than perpetual twilight. No stars, no planets. No shepherd moon to light her way.

The night of the past was like a gapping maw into the universe, its great abyss too massive to imagine, showing the world for the petty insignificance that it was. An island in a stream of stars. As Cameron looked up she felt the burden of its emptiness bear down on her, turning on her feelings as quickly as John had done.

Since his gradual absence from her heart the things in her life had equally lost their meaning. The strange foibles of this human world that had once fascinated, filled her with illogical warmth, now felt petty and cruel, making her long for the sterile and heartless world of the machine.

Right now, Cameron wished she had never loved. Wished she had never known such feelings, their absence now an unbearable torment as her soul surrendered to what small humanity remained and she began to cry.

Surprise forced the misery inside her out in a single breath as she felt warm arms slip around her from behind, replacing the void and cold injustice as Cameron felt the dawn.

"I love you."

The gentle sound of John's voice was like music next to her ear, the words a poetry that rebuilt her faith in an instant.

"I'm sorry, Cam."

An ignoble part of her had flared up, wanting to be angry, make him feel the pain he had made her feel. But not now. Not when he said he loved her. Not when he called her 'Cam'.

John watched as she twisted around, threading herself in his arms until their gazes met. He watched quietly as her hands reached up and cupped his face, her fingers searching, giving him that painfully innocent expression that defied anything anyone else would believe. She was such a tactile creature, everything had to be touched and explored, turned over to scrutinise like ancient pottery.

"What did I do wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, Cam. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why…"

"Sometimes people get scared. Then they get angry and they don't understand why." He tried to explain. "I'm _still_ scared. Even after it's all said and done."

Cameron tried very hard to understand, but the chains of logical programming made it difficult. "I know that I made the wrong decision…"

"No you didn't. We can't afford to think about the consequences if you hadn't. It was painful but it was the right decision. It still is."

"But it caused you a great deal of grief when I told you what I had done."

"I know. But I'm past that now."

John watched as Cameron's uncertainty was slowly replaced by her bright smile, washing away the ill memories of the past few days in a bath of forgiveness that replenished all that had been taken. He pushed back the side of her beautiful hair, threading his fingers around the back of her head before pulling her into a kiss.

She was like heaven to kiss.

He breathed in the cleanness of her hair, her soft skin, any imperfection no less than the flaw of a diamond.

Before long he felt their passion growing, stoking a fire inside him that hadn't burnt in days. Cameron sensed it too as her actions became more indelicate, demanding greater satisfaction as she began pushing him back toward the house.

"Cam?"

They broke apart just long enough to speak before she crushed their mouths back together and John had to forcibly resist, breaking from her mouth in an audible smack.

"Yes..?"

He looked her straight in the eye, wanting no misunderstanding or prevarication to get in the way. This time he wanting her to know he meant every single word.

"I'm _so_ glad you kept our baby…"

* * *

_Thus begins my new multi-chapter story. Hope you enjoy it and thank you in advance for any reviews._

_This story will have more emphasis on Derek and his reaction to John/Cam, similar to how "Only Lonely" focussed on Sarah._

_In case you're wondering, the title of the story refers to how fate is sometimes strange and curious._


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 2  
****T.R. Samuels**

Jesse Flores exited the steaming shower, wrapping a soft white towel around her naked body. Her skin tingled within the soft caress of the fluffy fabric, its woolly fibres spin-dried to perfection.

She _loved_ this world. A world of plenty and convenience were for just a few notes of worthless paper you could have anything you want. Food courts on every block, cold beer in a refrigerator and a thousand channels of hedonistic entertainment, digitally enhanced with surround sound and colour correction. Everyday there was sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, each night a veil dotted with scattered white. You could go down to the endless yellow beaches, their sands patrolled from dawn till dusk by an army of topless guys, swim out into the ocean and forget the world you left.

_Pretty to think so…_

A disquiet haunted her soul as she remembered what she was here to do. Something far more important than this worlds' debaucheries. The mission for the man. A great man who needed saving from himself before it was too late.

Drying out her hair she made her way back into the bedroom, her senses spiking as her gaze fell upon the collection of photographs strewn out across the bed in an angry disposal.

"You've got thirty seconds."

She spun around to face the gruff and coarse appearance Derek Reece as he held out his sidearm, placing the Berretta down gently on the nearby dresser before levelling her with cold grey eyes. "Go."

_No foreplay today then. Straight down to business._

"Funny Derek."

"Twenty-five. I'm not joking." His voice left little obfuscation as it dipped down into dangerous territory.

Jesse had seen him like this before, in the future, right before he made a Grey eat a bullet.

"I was sent back to find him"

"You could have told me."

"You could have told me you were living with him. With _her_! _It_! _Metal_." She knew what buttons to press and she jabbed at each one with ruthlessly deceit.

"He wasn't talking to anyone anymore. Just _her_." She watched the flicker in his eyes at the mention of the machine. "He's making questionable decisions, getting people killed. _Good_ people."

Derek steeled his wavering nerve as her subtext took one step over the line. "That's above your call to make soldier. Ten seconds."

"She's taken over! It's _sick_ is what it is! Perverse!" All the bile and revulsion began rising upward, fuelling the perpetual motion of a burning hate that had grown inside her like a cancer since they'd met so long ago. An evil monster that had taken his Jesse away.

"Just imagine if he spends the next twenty years with her! Imagine what he'll become. What she'll turn him into. Just try…"

Try as he might to bury his own demons, Derek felt the truth of her words push his mind ahead, into a grotesque future where John did all her bidding, bent over backwards and sent good men to die. He had always known John was close to the machines, had an affinity with them no other did. Understood them in a way no other had mastered and beat them at their own game.

But why always _her_? He'd even given it a name. Cameron Phillips. A name pulled out of the ether and bestowed on his favourite. The one that went with him wherever he went. Day in, day out. Night after night.

He could remember the talk; idle mutterings among the soldiers that had heard the rumours. How the machine was Connor's plaything. He'd shot it down whenever he'd heard it, ordering them away or back to work.

Maybe he should have listened.

"I'm here to stop her. I'm here to save him."

All of the anger of betrayal he'd built after finding her surveillance had by now ebbed away, leaving behind a gnawing trouble that sickened him with its images and took the wind out of his sails.

"I've gotta think about this." He grabbed his gun, clicking on the safety as he shoved it into the back of his pants.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?! Why'd Connor send you back?"

Snatching one of the photos he waved it under her smug and irreverent nose. No matter how many times he tried to believe, every time he came to visit, this woman before him became less and less like the one he loved.

"I love you. But don't push it…"

####

The fingers of John Connor tapped mercilessly away at the keys of the laptop, jabbing at the ones that refused to comply as he finished compiling all the information his mom would need before his nail scratched along the fiddly touchpad and clicked print. As the nearby printer came to life he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, freeing up tear ducts that stung him in gratitude.

He'd been up all night since Derek and his mother had returned, their timing impeccable, interrupting his ascent of the stairs where Cameron was leading to his bedroom. The effect had been every bit equal to a cold shower and they had been forced to join them; examining the fruitless bounty of the stolen hard drives.

John reached out and retrieved the stack of warm paper spewed forth from the printer, the hairs on the back of his wrist rising to the static as he neatly aligned the pieces with some others that had lay in wait, joining them together at the top corner with the swift bite of a stapler.

"Morning."

John flinched at his mother's stealthy appearance, already halfway across the living room and bearing down in his direction.

"Morning to you." His hand gently slipped over to the laptop, fingers making the surreptitious moves necessary to quickly close down the open windows. "I did some digging on the drives."

His arms folded neatly over one another as his mother reached the opposite side of the table, looking as haggard as he felt. He wondered if she had got any sleep at all last night or just stared off into oblivion like she had used to do. Well over a decade now from the perspective of the calendar.

"Dakara Systems is hunting for start-up money. They need investors for the server farm they're going to build. _Big_ investors." He reached over and retrieved the document he had just finished, its top pages lukewarm, tucking beneath it a cold cardboard binder. "I made you an appointment. Here's your cover."

Sarah received the items and quickly shuffled through them.

"I'm a rich divorcee looking to put my money in tech start-ups?"

"That's right." John chewed the corner of his mouth, hiding a sly grin of mischief. "I also made you a cheat-sheet so you wouldn't sound like a total moron when you're asking about neural networks and emergent behaviour."

"I have no idea what you just said."

"Yeah, that's my point."

A tender smile graced the corners of her mouth as appreciation warmed its way through her, marvelling at how much better John had been with her lately. The sarcasm and obstinacy of his recent youth curbing into maturity.

"Were you up all night doing this?"

"Dakara Systems is a start-up. So was Cyberdyne once. Andy Goode was building a chess program; Barbara Chamberlain was trying to solve a traffic problem. It… always starts small."

John's eyes glazed over as his mind slipped off to some other place. Sarah caught it, wondering what was on his mind as she took in his scraggy appearance. Hair unkempt, odour ripe, his eyes scrawled with angry red lines.

"You look beat. Go get some sleep."

He rubbed his eyes again, hands muffling a humourless chuckle. "I can't sleep during the day."

"Just lie down on your bed and close your eyes. Trust me, you'll sleep."

He smiled as he felt the weight of exhaustion catching up with him, making her suggestion all the more viable.

"Or you can spend some time with Cameron."

A rush of adrenaline brought him back to life as he opened his eyes and looked at his mother.

"Huh...?" He asked weakly, certain that he'd either misheard or that their basement contained a pod.

"I noticed you guys have been off with each other lately. Is something wrong?"

For several insane and fatigued seconds, John actually considered levelling with his mother, laying the recent truths bare for her to explode over before good sense prevailed.

_One bombshell at a time, John._

"No. We're fine."

She had realised as far back as Mexico that John and Cameron was a subject she would never gain any traction on, their relationship now too firmly entrenched in memory and flesh. Still the thought of him being with the machine made her uneasy, but it was gradually beginning to ebb.

Sarah wasn't blind or a fool. She knew Cameron was different. More so than any other machine. Perhaps that was what made it easier to tolerate, if certainly no easier to stomach. But John had made his choice and now she was going to make the best of it. The tirade he'd given her almost a week before about how every day was numbered still rang in her ears.

"Look, John. I know that I was angry at first but I'm alright now," She tried to reassure; the lie one of a thousand she had told throughout his life to protect her sons' feelings. "If there's… _anything_ you're not sure on, or want to ask me about, you can."

"Like what?"

She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "Anything you want. I mean are you and Cameron having any… _problems_?"

"Mom…"

"I know it's _uncool_ to talk to your mother about sex, but there are some things you just have to know, John."

What more was there to know? He was sixteen-years old and he was having a baby with his cybernetic girlfriend from the future. Already his biography would be a bestseller.

"Cameron and I are fine mom. And we're being careful from now on." He tried to reassure; the lie one of a thousand he had told throughout his life to protect his mothers' feelings.

Though she wasn't proud to admit it, a small wave of relief spread through her. "Alright. But I'm here if you need me."

"I know."

Sarah watched him rise from his chair and head past her for the stairs, hearing him climb the steps as she turned her attention to the meticulous preparation of her cover, flicking through the top pages that summarised the wealth of content beneath.

After a few minutes she was forced to concede that it was all a bit complicated.

She reached out to John's stationary case and rummaged through, finding a bright green highlighter to abridge the more relevant points. As she pulled her hand away, her sleeve caught on some of his papers and dragged them off the edge of the table.

"Damn it!" She reached down and began dragging them back together, scooping them up in a haphazard manner that revealed what lay beneath. Her hands froze before reaching in, sweeping back the large sheets to uncover a neatly folded leaflet. She turned it over, almost dropping it when she read the title.

_What to Expect When You're Expecting_

She flicked it open, finding bite sized paragraphs and testimonials in professional text, all printed between happy cartoons and cutaway diagrams of a female figure, her belly growing larger and larger as the months elapsed.

Dread sank through her like a cold marble, working its way down into the pit of her stomach where it left a dull sickness that refused to relent. She wondered what else she would find if she checked the history on his laptop.

_NO!_ It wasn't what she thought. John was just being sensible. She'd told him about consequences and now he was doing research, finding out for himself.

_Good boy! Always thinking. I didn't raise a fool._

Her mind skipped back to a time when she'd been young and carefree, remembering what her friend Ginger had told her once about love.

"_Love makes fools of us all, kiddo!"_

Sarah's eyes closed in what felt like the final crush of defeat before she cast it from her mind, banishing her unfounded paranoia and refocused on learning her cover.

####

Footsteps echoed along the polished timber floorboards as John traversed the upstairs landing on the way to his bedroom. His weariness had multiplied after making the ascent of the stairs, its vertical challenge enough to drain whatever energy he had left. The thought of climbing into bed felt heavenly, almost as much as it had the night before.

He remembered what had happened, disaster once more narrowly averted on the rocky road of love with Cameron Phillips before his mother and Derek had returned, dampening out their impending act of reconciliation in a flash.

John immediately chastised himself. Cameron wasn't the least bit difficult to love. It was what he liked best about her. It was always him and his problems that got in the way. Without them they could have been together ages ago, from the moment they met.

He remembered vividly the instant attraction, more so than mere physical, finding himself opening up to her in ways he never had with anyone before, wanting her to know and to judge.

Arriving at his destination he twisted the door handle and stepped inside, a new bolt of adrenaline cutting through him as he felt the barrel of a sidearm jab into his back.

"Freeze!"

John did as commanded as his heart rate exploded, the voice leaving no margin for disobedience.

"You've got thirty seconds to answer my questions."

John frowned as he recognised the voice.

"Cam?"

"No talking human!"

John dared to defy her and turned around, coming face-to-face with a semi-naked Cameron wearing nothing but matching silk underwear, her hand extended before her in the shape of a gun.

"You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing?"

"Role-playing."

"Why, might I ask?"

"Statistically speaking it is a relatively simple technique that can inspire sexual activity and enhance its gratification."

He felt his response die in his throat as his mouth curled upward, the method in her madness revealed. "You think we need inspiring?"

A twinge of sadness laced her response as her hand fell gracefully to her side. "Lately we have."

John felt his own pang of guilt as he reached forward and drew her into his arms, slipping around her narrow torso and squeezing her hard against him. Something else he loved about her; no matter how hard he hugged her she could never get hurt, muscle and sinew useless against a hyper-alloy skeleton.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been much of a boyfriend lately."

"Your mind has been preoccupied."

"I know. I'm still sorry. I should have thought about you."

The billions of quantum connections quickly generated her response. "If we have sex, I'll forgive you."

"When did you get so horny?"

The fire that was kindling inside him was given more fuel as he watched a subtle redness flush her cheeks. "Since…"

She didn't have to finish. He knew since when.

"What type of role-playing was it anyway?"

"I'm a terminator programmed to capture a resistance fighter so that Skynet could learn more about human sexuality."

John grew a lascivious grin as he pulled back to look at her. "Nice!"

"I tie your hands behind your back and order you to turn around. Then I'd ask 'what were you up to?'. Then you would look me up and down and say '_this_ is what I'm up to'." Her eyes indicated downward before her brow scrunched together. "I don't understand exactly what that means though."

John's shoulders began to shake as he fought back his laugh. "Cam, have you been watching late-night cable?"

"I don't sleep."

Marvelling at just how cool his girlfriend was, John raised his hand, brushing the hair away from the side of her face, her head sliding into his fingers like it had done so many times before. Cameron released her breath as she let John kiss her, fill her soul with the human tenderness that drove out the machine inside her. Their passion growing, it wasn't long before they had manoeuvred to the bed, where Cameron sank back into the soft cotton covers and John moved over her, his warmth slowly pressing against her in a wave that travelled up her body until their faces lay only a breath apart.

"Cam, is this safe? I mean, with the baby."

She nodded, kissing him softly. "Yes, completely safe. I've been doing research."

"Uh-huh."

"Several studies suggest that it is beneficial for a mother to have sexual relations with her child's father during her pregnancy."

_Mother. Father. Pregnancy._ Words that had filled him with cold dread for a time now kindled fire.

"Really? Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Where did you learn that from?"

Cameron levelled him with a pained expression. "John, are we going to talk or are we going to have sex?"

"Sex. Definitely. Without a doubt. It's just that…"

In a flash of movement, Cameron wrapped her legs around his torso in a powerful grip, twisting him down onto the bed and righting herself above him. Her hands pinned his arms above his head, triggering a flash of cobalt in her eyes as she reset her ocular filters.

"John Connor?" Her tone was deadly serious as she levelled him with those menacing eyes.

"Yeah?"

A dirty smile curved the corner of her mouth as her voice switched to a husky baritone. "_Come_ with me if you want to live."

John's eyes were as wide as saucers as she slowly descended on him, brushing her mouth against his in the teasing way that they enjoyed, daring him to continue before the last of his self-control finally snapped.

He seized her around her waist, hands moving upward to unhook her bra, proud beyond measure when it sprung apart on his first attempt, leaving her chest bare as he catapulted the frilly holsters across the room. Cameron reached down and lifted his shirt, helping it over his head before her hands found his shoulders, pushing him down until she could kiss his chest.

Their frenzied coupling passed by in a blur, a mirror of their first time as they struggled to satisfy pent up needs that had gone hungry for too long.

As they reached their crescendo Cameron cried out, muffling her face into John's shoulder to stifle the noise as they rode out the waves together.

John woke up a few hours later, the deep red bars on his digital clock confirming the time. He must have fallen asleep afterward, the final act that made him a genuine, card-carrying member of the male sex. He twisted his head and looked around, finding himself face down on the bed and pinned to the mattress, a weight bearing down on his back where Cameron lay on top of him, her breath tickling his cheek.

"Cam?"

"John?"

"How did you get there?"

His only answer was a gentle trail of kisses that moved along his shoulder, the simple act all the answer he required.

With a little manoeuvring, she slid off him to allow John to turn onto his back, the move laborious as his joints protested, appeased only when Cameron lay down in his arms.

"So…" He began, in the mood to play. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

She smiled as she listened to the beat of his heart. "I'm not going to tell you."

"Oh come on! Tell me."

"I want you to be surprised."

John sulked before inspiration struck. "Ah-ha! When I redecorate you'll have to tell me either blue or pink, then I'll know."

"Paint it green."

"Great… we're having a mutant."

"Green's my favourite."

He huffed at her intractability, knowing a lost cause when he saw it. Cameron could be as stubborn as he was sometimes.

The mere talk of babies had already got his mind diverted, remembering those first few days after they knew on the way back from Mexico. Sharing sideways glances at one another and grinning like idiots, laughing out loud when they caught one another's gaze.

At first John had felt ecstatic, happy beyond any logical reason, but all too soon the pragmatic realities of his life had begun sliding to the forefront of his mind. Afterward his days had become spent in perpetual worry, dreading the inevitable conversation with his mother, dropping the bombshell on Derek and getting through the next nine months.

The ethereal philosopher within him had rejoiced in the situation's irony. The first ever child between human and machine was going to be with the future leader of humanity and the terminator sent to kill him. There was something about it that just made him smile. The final 'screw-you' to Skynet that would crown its total defeat.

_No fate but what we make for ourselves._

Never before had he been so at odds with that core belief. His mind told him it was so, but his soul was never more certain that he and Cameron were always meant to be.

"We have to tell them, John. Sarah and Derek." She broke his reverie. "The longer we wait the angrier they'll be."

He tried to repress an unenthusiastic groan. "Let's just stay in this room and never leave."

"John…"

"Think of all the fun we can have."

"What about food?"

"We'll order in."

"What about when the baby's born."

"I'll read a really good book on child birth."

Cameron raised her head and looked him in the eye, her expression telling him the fate for this day. After today, it would all come to light.

The dread of his mother's reaction made his blood run cold, imagining the yelling and screaming.

"You tell mom, I'll tell Derek."

Cameron remained silent for several seconds as her CPU crunched the heuristics.

"Deal."

* * *

_That didn't take long, did it? I have quite a finite and specific plan for this story and I want it to flow right. That said, I will try and post new chapters as soon as I can._

_Hope you like it. Please read and review._


	3. Chapter 3

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 3  
****T.R. Samuels**

Morning sunshine met the bustle of rush-hour traffic as Sarah Connor gunned the jeep through downtown Los Angeles. The city street sounded like the inane cacophony of a manic depressive choir, engines revving and horns blaring as tempers began to fray. Her vehicle alone remained a tranquil island as she shared a long and comfortable silence with the succinct passenger that was Cameron Phillips.

Cameron was wearing the most formal clothing she had for their meeting at Dakara, her usual attire a mishmash collection of casual t-shirts, functional jeans, and a broad assortment of footwear that was enough to equip an army. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun that John had liked, the net result an outfit that he said made her look like a lawyer.

As the world beyond had gone about its business, Cameron's mind had worked tirelessly to develop the perfect strategy of informing John's mother of their latest situation. A task not at all difficult on the surface, but Cameron had seen too many soap operas to be that naïve.

"Sarah," She began cautiously, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding. "There's something we need to discuss."

The older woman gave her a brief sideways glace as she made a turn with the wheel. "You know your part in this right?"

"Yes, I'm your financial advisor. I went to UCLA and have a degree in economics. My roommate was named Katie and she loved Black Sabbath."

"Excuse me?"

"John said that I needed to know 'the little details' so that my cover would be more convincing."

"I see. Then what do you want to discuss?"

Cameron felt a curious sensation occurring inside her, concerning her for a moment until she ran a scan, detecting no irregularities. John had warned her about butterflies, but she had quickly reassured him, despite his patient expression, that it was in fact a baby.

"It is something you are likely to have a strong reaction to."

Sarah was getting a little tired of the digs at her driving. "If I pull over and park will it make you feel better?"

"It… couldn't hurt."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she brought their vehicle to a stop at a set of traffic signals.

"Why don't you just tell me quick before the lights change."

Cameron resolved the uneasiness inside her as best she could, setting her jaw tightly before pressing ahead, her analysis suggesting the direct approach.

"John and I are having a baby."

As she waited for Sarah's response the signals switched from amber to green and their flow of traffic began to move.

After several seconds however, she realised that their car was not among them.

A horn sounded from behind them several times before the driver yanked on the wheel, tearing by in a squeal of rubber as he threw them the finger as he passed.

"_Stupid bitc…"_

His voice drowned out as he roared off into the distance and several other cars began voicing their disproval, dying out as the signals switched back to red.

"Sarah? You missed the lights."

Sarah Connor took several deep breaths, clearing her mind as she tried to breathe the fire out of her lungs, the vein across the side of her forehead throbbing mercilessly.

The obnoxious blaring of a car horn sounded again, this time from directly behind them, its driver a fat little man with a receding hairline.

Sarah suddenly grabbed her seatbelt release, springing it back from her body before stepping out of the jeep, the door bouncing on its hinges as she marched down the road in the relentless strides of T-1000. Cameron watched in astonishment as she approached the vehicle behind them, its ashen driver fumbling with the lock before she smacked both hands against the side of his door, the tiny car rocking violently on its suspension.

"I'm having a conversation and it's that time of the month!"

The driver remained rigid in terror as Sarah returned to the jeep, slamming the door shut behind her before casually redoing her belt, the cars behind now deafeningly silent.

All this time thinking she was in charge. All the speeches, the mantras, and the arguments. None of it had made the slightest difference with John. He'd just gone ahead anyway. Forged his own path. Straight into Cameron's embrace.

As she thought about it, the destiny John had laid out before him, a strange kind of clarity swept through her mind, bringing with it a debilitating epiphany.

Without warning or preamble, Sarah suddenly burst into laughter, an insatiable cackle tinged with hope and regret, sickened by a hopeless desperation. She looked at the machine, her smile mirroring on Cameron's face as the girls' shoulders began to shake.

For the next few minutes, the two women shared a crescendo of reciprocal laughter neither would ever forget.

####

The metal load protector of the truck rolled back as John Connor flattened the vehicle's tailgate, hefting some heavy cases across its cargo bed as he began lugging them up the stairway at the front of the house. Ahead of him, Derek Reece was bearing his own cargo but his attention remained focussed on a fatigued plastic strap he had recently removed.

Sarah and Cameron had departed hours ago, heading into the city for the appointment at Dakara. By now she must have told his mother the truth, sealing the fate of John's actions as he tried to find the nerve inside him to fulfil his part.

"Take a look at this." Derek thrust the strap forward for his inspection. "You see them? The three-dots on the belt."

As described, John saw the ubiquitous pattern that had recently entered their lives, the latest puzzle that had been dispensed from the bloody wall of knowledge scrawled in the basement.

"If you're going to talk about my mother when she's not even here…"

"No, I'm talking about the three-dots on this belt. I'm seeing them everywhere now. It's got me thinking how crazy this can make you. You start seeing things in every corner, on every wall. Pretty soon you forget what it was you were looking for in the first place. All of us, everyone."

"I remember. I always remember."

"Do you? Are you sure?"

John shook his head, becoming exasperated. "Derek… what the hell?!"

"Nothing I…I just need to know that you're seeing clearly." He struggled to explain, determined to impart what little he possessed in hard-earned wisdom. "I need to know at least someone is, but _especially_ you."

"Yeah, I know. Big destiny and all."

"Hey! Don't just blow that off! You have any idea how lucky you are? I'd have killed for that kind of certainty in my life at your age! I'd kill for it _now_."

What John lacked in wisdom he offset with his skills of perception. Or perhaps Derek was too easy to read, since day one like an open book to John as he watched his uncle carry his heart around on his sleeve, his suit of proverbial armour worn wafer thin within the placid confines of the past.

"Derek, if there's something on your mind or that you need to ask me, just do it!"

He threw the gauntlet down with a sense of finality. There was no going back now.

"Okay… okay. What happened with you and Riley?"

"Nothing happened. She and I are through. Be happy about it."

Derek wasn't the least bit petty, his words tinged with magnanimity. "Don't get me wrong, I _am_ happy, she wasn't good for you."

"Good to know. Anything else?"

John tried to sound as though her were being patient and accommodating, a shrewd tactic as he lured Derek into precipitating the inevitable revelation. After several second however, the soldier had not continued.

"Derek?"

His uncle looked at him with ambivalent eyes, no longer certain that he should pry any further.

"It's nothing. Forget it."

The momentum of the conversation began to disintegrate and John realised that he would have to meet him halfway.

"Alright… alright…" The frayed nerves within him took root in his spine, straightening his back as John found an untapped vestige of suicidal courage. "If you don't have the balls to ask I'm just going to have to tell you."

"John…"

"I want to tell you. I want you to know. I want _everyone_ to know."

"It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!" John's words were laden with foreboding as his tone shifted gears. "I should have told you and mom earlier, but I didn't have the guts…"

Nephew and uncle regarded one another, sensing the precipice that was expanding between them, waiting for them to fall.

"Cameron's pregnant. I'm the father."

John's words were thrown down between them like a hand grenade, setting off a deafening silence that filled Derek with numb disbelief. The soldier slowly shook his head, looking at John as though he'd just shot his dog.

Anguish finally settled inside Derek like a war wound, making him look dazed and pale and sick to his stomach. It felt as though John and led him through a door and locked it behind them, changing things forever. When he spoke again his voice was a gravely whisper.

"She tricked you. She forced you to do it."

John shook his head. "I didn't need any convincing."

"Of course not, I've seen her. I'm not blind. She's a great piece of ass…"

"Don't talk about her like that!"

Derek looked at him as though he were a stranger, something unknown and otherworldly as his eyes scrunched together, his face contorting. "What's happened to you!?"

"It wasn't planned. But I don't regret anything. I'm glad that it happened."

The older man began shaking his head, denial his only salvation and recourse.

"Stop."

"I'm glad Cameron's having my baby…"

"Stop!"

"…I love her."

"I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP!!"

This hadn't gone as well as John had planned, hoping against hope for something resembling a rational conversation and wishing that perhaps someday, maybe, he wouldn't be so naïve.

"She's done something to you. Brainwashed you or something."

"My mind's never been clearer. We're going to have this baby no matter what…"

John's words drifted away into a distant echo as Derek's mind swam in hypoxia, his breathing curtailed as the blood in his veins pumped battery acid, sickening him to his core. He tried to take a step but his legs buckled beneath him, sending him down on to all fours where he pounded his fists onto the hardwood floor.

John tried to help him.

"Don't touch me! Get away!"

"It really isn't that bad, Derek! It's not that big a deal!"

The thought of that metal, _that_ _thing_, carrying a baby inside it made his gorge rise, remembering vividly what the machines in the future had done with human infants, casting them aside like rag dolls after their mothers had delivered, piling them high in the corner of a ruined hospital room that had broken harden soldiers at the sight of it. He saw it now, the memory as clear and sharp as shattered glass; the crying and wailing, some of the men he knew eating a bullet from their own gun in the face of its hopelessness.

"Yeah, you're right," He finally spoke, finding his feet as he gave John an unsettling smile. "It's much better it happened with you. I wouldn't want my freak in its belly."

John closed his eyes, not wanting to hear any of this, resolving in his heart that he must.

"You should have seen her in the future John. She put out like a broken vending machine."

He felt the anger welling inside him, bolting it down with a lifetime of restraint and let Derek vent. This was the best he could have hoped for and now he was just going to have to take it.

"That's why you dumped Riley, isn't it. _You_ traded up." His ugly leer was disturbing and John began feeling uncomfortable. "Why have a human girl when you can have a robot, huh?"

"Derek…"

"She'll do everything a real girl will do, but twice as good, right? In fact, why even bother with people, just get yourself a robot! Robots are better than people, aren't they John?!"

"Please don't do this."

Derek's smile vanished, replaced with a look of incredulousness. "_Me_ don't do this? Maybe you should have told yourself that before you weighed anchor!"

"I'm not ashamed of anything I've done."

"You should be. Your father would be ashamed of you."

His words cut through John's heart like a cold and rusty blade, making him shake with adrenalin.

"Y'know, the more I get to know you Derek, the more I realise which brother must have been the bigger man."

"You never knew your father and you don't know me, and don't make me laugh by pretending that you know anything about being a man!"

"Maybe I don't, but I'm figuring it out." John smiled, looking Derek up and down like he was something unpleasant. "Look on the bright side, at least you taught me that it doesn't involve being an ignorant, racist asshole."

_SMACK!_

In a blur of motion Derek's fist connected with John's mouth with the force of a mace, sending him sprawling on his back against the unforgiving floor. He felt a metallic sting well up from his lip and instantly saw red, fury flashing through him like a bolt of lightning.

In as instant John was back on his feet and charged his uncle, defeating Dereks' defences as the two of them crashed together in a brutal and ugly struggle.

Furniture was overturned as glass and ceramic began shattering into thousands of pieces, the two combatants making every blow count as the raw emotion burst out of them both.

Derek growled as John drove his knee into the soldiers' ribs, ducking behind him to take him in a neck lock.

In seconds the older man was free, overpowering him with brute strength as the sum of Derek's rage was unleashed, tripping John downward with his leg and smashing his body across the coffee table. The furniture splintered apart as Derek began a merciless barrage of vicious strikes, beating John into oblivion as his fists became stained with blood.

He punched harder and harder, unable to stop. His eyes wide and feral. His entire being taking leave of his senses as a madness inside him consumed itself in a bloody and vengeful fury until John's body went limp.

####

Deep orange sunlight arced across the sky as the sun set on the horizon, the city falling into twilight as Sarah and Cameron pulled into the driveway, their mission to Dakara complete. Thick gravel crunched as the vehicle whined to a stop in the empty parking bay, doors clicking open as the two of them stepped out.

"Don't think I've forgotten," Sarah warned as they approached the house. "If John thought I was tyrannical before, then he's in for a shock."

Cameron gave her a laconic reply before she came to a stop, her eyes scanning the gravel, detecting a set of skids that tore out of the driveway, their width and depth consistent with the Connor family's Dodge Ram pick-up.

"What is it now?" Sarah enquired from the masonry steps.

"Where's the truck?"

Sarah was tired, just wanting to lie down and take off her heals. "Maybe they went out."

Cameron turned back to the house, unconvinced as she moved up the front steps, passing Sarah and approached the front door, twisting the handle and creaking it open. The feeling hit her like the ricochet of a bullet as she stepped inside, seeing the overturned furniture and scattered glass, the lounge a tattered ruin.

Her mind fled to only one thing.

"John?!"

She reached behind her, yanking out her Glock-17 in one swift movement as Sarah stepped beside her and did the same.

"JOHN?!" His mother called, panic in her voice as she chambered a round.

"In here."

Cameron's head twitched like an eagle's at the sound of his voice, drawing them both to the kitchen where John was leaning over the sink. Lowering their weapons, Cameron stepped closer to him as she detected his ease.

"John what…" Her voice died away as she looked at him.

The left side of his face was a bloody mess, a horizontal laceration marring his cheek and his lip was cut, both injuries bleeding like war wounds as he tried to dab them with a ruined towel.

Sarah was instantly by his side. "Oh my God, John! What happened?!"

"Nothing… it was my fault."

Sarah pushed Cameron aside and gently took her son's face in her hands. Her fingertips pressing gently as she looked at his wounds.

"John. Who did this?" Her tone was firm but kind as she watched a play of emotions ghost John's face, culminating in a twisting sadness as his eyes closed together.

She recognised what he was feeling. A sick version of fear that could only be borne from betrayal.

"What is it?" Cameron asked, not comprehending.

Sarah leaned forward and kissed John tenderly on his undamaged cheek, pulling him into an embrace as she cradled his head.

"John, I want you to sit down and let Cameron look at you." She steadied him as she pulled back a chair, ushering him down to the head of the kitchen table, allowing Cameron to step in as her phone buzzed to life.

Sarah dug in her pocket and removed the device, her eyes turning dark as she glanced at the screen, slipping from the room without a word.

"I guess your talk went better than mine." John tried to smile as he winced through the pain.

The look on Cameron's face soon dashed any levity, her eyes wide apart as she surveyed the damage.

"It was not as adversarial as I had anticipated."

Seeing through the formality, John took her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"Hey, I'm alright."

"_I'm_ not."

First aid forgotten, emotion erupted through John and she took him in her arms, clinging to her, burying his head against her chest as she kissed his hair.

After stepping out onto the patio, Sarah pressed the tiny green button on her phone, raising it to her ear as her eyes and jaw set like industrial diamond.

"Hello?"

A series of tones followed, identifying the caller.

"You're a dead man, Reese."

"_Sarah… I'm sorry."_

"NO!!! You don't get to be sorry! You're not fit to be in the same gene pool as Kyle!" Her voice was deadly, every word thundering out beneath her breath.

"Y'know, a few hours ago I would have agreed with you. I'd have stood shoulder to shoulder with you to give them the talk. Then you hurt my boy and now you're fucking dead! No matter where you go, I'm going to find you and I'm going to blow your fucking brains out you bastard!! You better pray Cameron finds you before I do!!"

She stabbed the phone's end button before hurling it against the nearest wall, the small device smashing into oblivion as fury boiled through her like she had never felt before; cursing the day she ever heard the name Derek Reese.

Her hands balled together on the brickwork stair ledge, gnawing her molars in a painful grind as she beat down her need for revenge.

What galled her more than anything and twisted her soul was the thought that if she'd left John alone with Cameron, if for a minute or a year; she knew down to her bones that the machine would never hurt him.

No matter what he said or did, she would _never_ hurt John.

Not like _this_. Not leave him broken and bleeding and take his dignity away.

A perverse smile graced her mouth as her mind arrived at an impossible conclusion, realising with no shortage of melancholy that for the first time ever; she was actually grateful that John and Cameron were together.

####

With the saturnine motions of a condemned man, Derek drew the phone down from his ear, taking great care to lock the keypad before sliding the device into his jacket pocket.

Sarah's words rang through him like a death knell, the portent of a welcome doom.

After leaving the house he had dived into the truck and just driven, as far as he could without destination, across the city until he came to a rundown bar on some back route to north L.A. From the outside it had looked as inviting as a headache, its neon sign flickering and flashing to the beat of a machine gun. He'd walked inside, waded through the smoky gloom and parked himself at the bar, finding the nerve somewhere within him to make the call to Sarah.

_What have I done?_

He looked straight ahead, finding his reflection beyond a jungle of florescent bottles where jaded orbs glistened back at him like wet stones.

In a shaky gesture he raised his hand, the skin on his knuckles broken and red, his voice little more than a hoarse murmur.

"Whiskey."

The bartender dutifully complied, a mountain of a man who looked as though he split his time equally between tending bar and working out. He placed a remarkably clean glass down on a tissue coaster, filling its circular reservoir with the brown liquid of a tall square bottle.

Derek took the glass and downed it in a single gulp, barely feeling anything as placed it back down.

"Reload."

The glass was refilled and he repeated his action.

"Reload."

The bartender regarded him for several seconds. "How about I just leave the bottle? Save me the trouble of standing here."

Derek's response was a silent nod before he was finally left alone. He snatched the bottle, pouring another glass quickly, causing unforgivable spillage before bringing it to his mouth, repeating the action again and again in the cyclic actions of a conveyor belt.

"Hey, pal. Are you gonna cause trouble?" The bartender had returned, patience waning. "You kick off and you'll find yourself in a world of hurt."

Derek reached inside his jacket in a robotic motion, removing an impressive wad of green notes from which he peeled off a handful. The bartender was dumbstruck as they were placed in his hand, close to four-hundred bucks.

"I just want my drink and to be left alone."

"You got it."

From the other end of the bar a pair of leather clad bikers watched the exchange, their gazes following the roll of notes as Derek stuffed them back into his jacket. One glanced at the other before they pushed back from the bar, striding toward Derek where they loomed up beside him.

"Hey, pal! What's with the display?"

The two were as ugly has they came as Derek watched them in the mirror, the leader chomping on a dirty cigar.

"What's a pretty boy like you drinking in this dive? No wine bars open?"

The dynamic-duo chuckled at their own joke as Derek's hand slid down from his bottle of Jack Daniel's.

"I'm looking to break some asshole's nose."

The biker's face set like stone, eyeing the soldier up and down.

"What's that?"

"Funny, that's what I asked when your mom got undressed."

In a blur of motion the lead biker took a swing at him, missing as Derek kicked the stool out from under himself and ducked to the side, grabbing the back of the guy's head and slamming it forward into the bar, dropping him into an unconscious pile.

In a cacophony of screeching, the chairs of seven burly bikers pushed back from their tables, each eyeing Derek with murderous intent.

####

The door to the bar's condemned bathroom burst open and a biker fell to the floor, his cloths soaking through as Derek followed close behind him, holding one of his greasy pals in an iron headlock before cracking his head against the corner of the sink. The fallen biker watched his buddy drop hard to the floor as Derek loomed over him; ice in his eyes as the bleeding bartender in the bar beyond jabbed at the keys of a beaten up phone box.

"Stand-up."

The biker shook his head and raised his hands in mercy.

Derek grabbed him and pulled him to his feet.

"Hit me!"

"What?!"

"I want you to hit me as hard as you can!"

"You're crazy!"

"DO IT!!"

Clawing back what remained of his shattered nerves, the biker swung, delivering a blow to Derek's face before tearing off through the bar, passing his fallen comrades as he body slamming his way out through the front door, running off into the night.

Derek felt the numbing pain well up as blood began sliding from his nose, turning to the washbasin and running some cold water. His hands cupped together under the stream, letting the cool water slid through them as he reached for the slab of industrial soap. He washed the blood from his hands, white suds turning pink, slipping the ruined bar back on its holder before splashing some water on his face.

His gaze pulled upward to the mirror, seeing a sad old man looking back, a worn out soldier who felt as though he had struggled through every single one of his thirty-two years.

A decade of warfare against an inhuman enemy, countless missions, watching his friends torn apart, eating rats to survive and gradually losing the feeling in his legs as the bitter cold had worked its way in.

All that honour and respect he had earnt through blood and hardship. All washed away in a single moment.

Images of John's face flashed through his mind. His brother's boy. Humanity's saviour. Bloodied and beaten on the floor.

Derek looked again at his murky image, grief flashing at the heartless injustice of it all before he drove his fist into the glass, smashing his reflection into a thousand scraggy lines.

* * *

_I really wanted to take Derek to rock bottom in this. He's lost his brother, his lover, and all his friends and now he's lost John and Sarah; the latter by his own doing through a single, angry mistake. There's just a terrible injustice somewhere in all that._

_Please read and review. Don't be scared to go into detail about what you liked or disliked._


	4. Chapter 4

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 4  
****T.R. Samuels**

The dextrous digits of Cameron Phillips moved gently across his jaw, fingertips sensing for any imperfection in the bone beneath as they trailed around to John's spine. Her hands split off in opposite directions, squeezing the cervical vertebra between her thumb and finger, tactile sensors cranked to their highest gain.

After stemming the bleeding by the sink in the kitchen, Cameron had brought John to the comfort of his room and sat him down on the bed, his legs outstretched on the mattress as he leaned against the headboard.

"Umm… that feels nice." He gave her a lazy smile as she leaned close to him.

"I'm checking to see if you've fractured your spine." Realising his fatigue she looked him straight in the eye. "Stay awake."

"It's difficult to concentrate when you're so close, Cam. You look great."

"Be serious, John."

"I _am_ being serious. I'm confirming that there's nothing wrong with my eyes."

Cameron was familiar with his technique, a level four defence mechanism. John was using a form of sublimation, in this case humour, to alleviate his negative emotional state. Of all the things that could be wrong with him, it was what concerned her the most. She could examine his body fully, mend any damage, but repairing his emotions was beyond her programming.

"Hey… you're doing fine."

He was reading her mind again. How did he do that?

She gave him the most frugal of smiles as her hands moved over his head, feeling over the contours of his skull in an incidental massage and John soon surrendered to her mercies.

"I said stay awake." Her tone was much firmer than before, fear sneaking in.

"Sorry."

The tips of her fingers trailed down his face, careful to avoid the angry laceration that marred his cheek, electrical impulses probing beneath the surface of his skin. His eyes were quizzical as she squeezed the bridge of his nose, manipulating the cartilage.

She could do this for as long as she liked, her methodical attention a strange intimacy.

"You have received no concussion that I can detect." Her hands moved to examine his face, tilting his head gently. "These injuries are mostly superficial, but there will be bruising."

"Great…"

She pressed lightly against the frayed flesh of his cheek. "This injury will require stitches."

Cameron reached across to the nightstand, retrieving a small flannel from the transparent bowl of water, ringing out the excess before folding the fabric into a square, dabbing it gently against the wound.

"You'd make a great nurse, Cam."

"It's my job to look after you."

"No, I mean in one of those little outfits."

He gave her his most playful look, waggling his eyebrows, but Cameron saw through the façade.

"I know that you have been traumatised by what's happened, John." She said gently. "I won't allow Derek to harm you again."

At the mention of his uncle's name she saw the immediate shift in John's eyes.

"Guess I got my ass kicked."

"He is a thirty-year old veteran soldier, you're only sixteen. There was no shame in loosing a fight to him."

The illogical humiliation flashed through John and he tried to fight it, the wounded pride of the caveman inside him grappling with his higher-self, demanding retribution and redemption in the eyes of his mate.

"You're not going after him are you?"

The last thing his baser-self needed was his girlfriend fighting his battles for him. Cybernetic killing machine notwithstanding.

"Derek is no longer a direct threat." She looked at him squarely, plain honesty in her eyes. "I'm not built for revenge."

A strange type of shame welled up inside John, one that was ubiquitous of mankind as his heart filled with pride in Cameron, expelling the Neanderthal within.

Maybe that made Derek right though. Maybe he _did_ like machines more than humans; thought better of them than his fellow man.

Especially _this_ one. Everyday growing lovelier in his eyes.

"What are you smiling at?" Cameron had a coy grin as she finished cleaning his wound.

He shrugged. "You're just… a beautiful person, Cam."

Returning the flannel to the reddened water she leaned forward, their eyes locked together to the final moment before she was kissing his mouth in delicate circles, tasting the metallic tang on his lip before pulling away.

"That was nice." His foolish grin stretched from ear to ear.

Cameron reached down to the floor, retrieving an impressive case of first aid that she placed beside him, leaning over to reveal the wealth of its content. She retrieved a vial of transparent liquid and read the label, placing it to one side as she removed the paper wrapping from a fresh syringe, testing the plunger so that it slid free and easy.

John's grin vanished, his whole body stiffening as she fixed the needle, tipping the vial upside down and masterfully withdrawing a carefully measured amount.

"This will be uncomfortable, but I must administer a local anaesthetic before I can treat you."

He nodded glumly, his fate resigned. "Alright."

Cameron loomed forward, loaded syringe in her hand and delicately pulled back his upper lip, pressing the needle into the infraorbital nerve and injected the anaesthetic, quickly withdrawing in a matter of seconds.

John breathed a sigh of relief as the sting began to fade, not at all a pleasant experience. It was soon offset as Cameron's mouth found his again, his courage rewarded, kissing him in the precise and leisurely manner they had found as their relationship matured.

From the gap in the doorway, Sarah watched as her son drew Cameron into a gentle embrace, her lithe body kissing and touching, passion sedated as it gave way to worry and love. Far more woman than machine. More so than ever as his hand slid to her waist, cradling his palm against her abdomen.

She _had_ to believe what she was seeing was true; that Cameron could truly feel these things and not be an imitation. She tried as hard as she could to believe it for the sake of her son. A son that was so far past the point of no return, he couldn't even remember passing it.

Sarah watched as they smiled at one another, whispering things she couldn't hear as John's hand caressed her belly in a gentle circle.

_That_ was what scared her now.

Their offspring. Their progeny. Their moment of careless insanity. Their… _baby_.

_John and Cameron's baby._

The words were frightening and a shudder swept through her, Technologic baby robots passing through her mind's eye.

They had no idea. Even if everything was perfect and natural and went according to plan. The struggle. The effort. Day in and out. It was unimaginable how difficult it was to raise a child, even under the best of circumstances.

Her attention was recaptured as Cameron threaded a suturing needle, the two of them comfortable and relaxed as she began the precise movements with the needle holder to stitch together the gash on his cheek, her hand making long arcs as she slowly closed the injury.

The omen of childbirth must have dulled her senses. Not so long ago she would have been on the edge of a razor if the machine was welding a needle so close to her son's eye.

Not so long ago she trusted Derek above any other to safeguard her son.

_How things change._

####

The click of plastic coat hangers slid over stainless metal railings, clattering together as Riley Dawson thumbed her way through the mishmash selection of frilly dresses. He fingers trailed along the fabric, perfectly weaved by a mindless machine that did its master's every bidding. Faithfully and subservient, relying upon humanity's input and control. Just as every machine should be.

Then the day came when the machines decided differently. The day they decided to become masters themselves.

She had been born afterward in the ruins, the early days when Judgement Day had only just happened and Skynet was far from building its robotic armies. The calm between storms. Back then it had just been about surviving against the elements, after civilisation had been swept away and the law of the jungle prevailed.

For a young child she had not known the difference. Her family's travels across the countryside an eternal field trip. She remembered the flowers of the alpine fields, meadows that sloped high up in the mountains where her father told her it was safe.

Those were good times. The _best_ times she remembered.

Then her parents had died. Killed over the remains of a desert gas station and the bounty of canned goods found within. Not by machines, but by other people. Stronger and more numerable than her father, whose prowess as a hunter-gatherer was too far removed, forcing them down from the mountains.

That had been ten years ago, almost ten years ahead now in the future. Her place in this time was like the fulcrum of a great cosmic scale, balancing her existence on the end of a pin.

She had thought about finding them a thousand times since arriving in this world. The world her father had told stories about.

Mecca. Babylon. The legend he had carved nothing short of the Garden of Eden.

"Cute top." Her veins ran cold as the voice loomed up beside her, fingers springing free from the clothes line. "You wanted to talk?"

They quietly retreated to the privacy of the changing rooms, Riley leading the way until the cheap pine door clicked shut behind them. They sat down on the bench where Jesse Flores fingered back a lock of her hair, her hand retracting to rest under her chin like a marble statue in contemplation.

"You look tired. You sleeping enough?"

It was a hollow concern. Riley had learnt about Jesse the hard way and she swallowed hard.

"He ran away from me."

Jesses fingers sprang apart with her shrug. "He's a boy. Keep trying."

Riley wasn't completely foolish. Not any more at least. She liked to think she'd learnt something from her experiences about life, survival and the human species. No matter what way she played this, she knew it would be bad.

"There's a lot of mirrors in this world. Did you notice that?" She asked, standing up to examine her reflection in the conclave of glass. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"I'm sorry. It's not easy, I understand. Maybe you even have some real feelings for him. Who wouldn't? He's John Connor. There's a reason people follow him all over hell."

"But what if I want out?"

Jesse remained silent as the words hung in the air, thick with meaning and something else; a deafening sense of finality.

"What's happened?"

Riley turned about to face her handler's pointed gaze.

"He made his choice. He's with _her_. The machine."

"What do you mean _with_ her?"

"I mean they're together. Doing everything…" She added the last part in a shallow whisper. "He chose her over me."

Eyes closing in the bitter tang of defeat, Jesse fought down the instinct to explode. All that planning. All the risk and effort and travelling across time. All for nothing.

"I'm sorry. I know I let you down…"

Unexpectedly, she was silenced by Jesse's warm smile. "It's okay, hon. I know you tried your best."

Relief spread through the teenager like a cold drink of water, quickly rejoining Jesse on the bench.

"Let's just forget about it! We're here now! We can have normal lives!" Riley began to gush, her every covert fantasy laid bare.

The soldier nodded, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'll make sure the coast is clear, then we'll get out of here."

As she got up off the bench Riley felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, the sickness recover in her stomach. She was free. No more lying or pretending. They could go anywhere now, just her and Jesse, find the mountains and sunny meadows and never look back.

Tell the beautiful soldier where her heart truly lay.

In a flash of movement, Jesse's arm swept down, grabbing the girl around the neck and pulled hard with the other hand. Her grip tightened like a vice as Riley's arms and legs flayed about, scuffing the carpet into dark lines as her friend's eyes burnt into her.

"Look on the bright side, hon. At least you got to see Babylon."

Riley felt the fulcrum buckle, the pin toppling beneath. The balance of the scale reached an irreparable tipping point as her eyes grew heavy and dark. Serenity engulfed her and she smelt the flowers of the alpine fields.

####

Cameron descended the staircase to find Sarah sitting at the kitchen table, an assortment of supplies laid out before her as she loaded bullets into a magazine.

"Is John alright?" She asked, not turning from her task.

"Yes. His injuries were only superficial."

"No they weren't. Derek took something away from John. Something more important."

Cameron frowned, searching for her meaning. "His pride?"

"No not his _pride_! His _dignity_. His _trust_ and _confidence_. He won't get that back until this is settled." There was resolution in her tone, a strength to see anything through to the end.

Cameron watched as Sarah slid the magazine into her Glock, stuffing it into a satchel with the rest of her gear before her chair screeched backward from the table.

"What are you going to do?"

"Find Derek." She put on her jacket and swung the satchel across her shoulders. "Stay here and look after John."

"I can help."

"No you can't. You've got _other_ priorities." She nodded down to Cameron's abdomen. "You're not so good in a fire-fight anymore."

Without thinking, Cameron's hand slid to her stomach, protecting the gift John had given as it multiplied inside her.

"Y'know, I think an explanation is long overdue," She remarked. "How does a machine get knocked up?"

Cameron didn't care much for her tone, a slither of anger emerging at her choice of words.

"I got on my back in a cheap hotel room."

Before she could respond, Cameron left the room, the burst of fury dying in Sarah's throat as the air was sucked from her lungs and her cheeks burned red.

####

The door to her apartment slammed shut as Jesse swept into her living room, slinging her bag into a chair as she checked her messages.

As she turned to enter her bedroom she skidded to a halt, seeing Derek sitting on the edge of her bed.

"I'm gonna regret giving you a key, aren't I."

There was a sombreness in his eyes that she hadn't seen before, the aura of defeat all around him as he slowly heaved himself up and approached. His combat boots made rounded echoes on the timber floor, counting down until the two soldiers were face to face.

"John Connor's my nephew. Three people know that fact, you're the forth."

Jesse tried to digest what he had told her, the mysteries of John Connor clicking gradually into place as she followed there logical path, there meaning becoming clear.

"I see."

As she moved closer she could smell the booze on him, Jack Daniels No. 5, not all of it taken internally. "I came here the fight a war. To do whatever it takes to stop Skynet. Now. Today. If we're gonna do this; there's no more room for secrets."

Derek took a fortifying breath, digging deep to find some way of saying what needed to be said without breaking down.

"Cameron… _the metal_…" He averted his eyes, feeling like a failure. "It's having his kid."

The soldier burst out in a strangled laugh, dying in his throat almost immediately as his eyes glazed over. He reached in his jacket and pulled out a flask, twisting off the metal cap before downing a swig.

Jesse watched in a daze, his words running over and over in her mind.

"_It's_…"

His face scrunched together as the whiskey burned. "_Pregnant_. The machine's pregnant with John's baby."

This wasn't happening. Not this. Out of everything that could have gone wrong.

Jesse's face contorted before it met both her palms, fingers sliding backward into her hair as she sat down on her bed, legs buckling at the last moment.

"What's he done about it?"

"Nothing! He's happy about it! He's happy and he wants to have it. Raise it and give it a name."

Jesse became ashen, the blood draining from her body at the thought of it. Humanity's savior in her arms, poisoning his mind and making him weak, the perfect bait for a honey-trap.

What a fool she'd been. The machine was everything John Connor liked in a woman; strength, resolve, loyal, even loving in its own way, its devotion second only to one other. Riley hadn't stood a chance.

How did he do that? Inspire that type of fanatical loyalty? In the future he was like a god, dispensing death and judgment like he wrote the book on it. Soldiers would die for him by the thousand, each with a song in their hearts, always more to take their place.

It had taken a long time, but Jesse had seen the truth. Deep in a valley and hundreds of miles from the last big fight, the final crescendo in the waning days of the war.

"Sit down Derek. If there's no more secrets between us," Derek sat down before he fell down, the whiskey outweighing his blood. "I have to tell you what I know. What happened after you left."

Sobriety found him quickly as he felt the gravity of her words. "The truth about what, Jess?"

"It's all gone to hell, Derek." Her eyes glistened as she looked through him to another time and place. "People aren't people anymore. We lost our way.

"All because of John Connor…"

* * *

_Hope you like it. Sorry for the delay in updates, the real world keeps getting in the way… Thank God we've got somewhere else to go._


	5. Chapter 5

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 5  
****T.R. Samuels**

The desolate sands of the desert valley stretched out into the night, its peaceful serenity torn apart as plasma-beam fire lit up the landscape in a hailstorm of crisscrossing light. The Battle of Bighorn Basin drew to its bloody climax as fire raged from the smatterings of dry vegetation, all the fires of hell burning high beneath them.

Across the scorched earth swarmed the metallic army of Skynet, slithering over the rustic sands as it glistened in stainless perfection. HK-Aerial units swooped overhead like vengeful angels, searchlights casting downward onto the battlefield in blinding strobe light. Screaming and shouting pieced through the explosions as Skynets' enemies were cut down, its metallic creations spearing the relentless extermination of the human vermin.

Amidst the inhuman onslaught clung the remains of a division of ragtag guerrilla fighters, yelling and running as they moved about the desert in hand-stitched camouflage, welding a bastardised arsenal of old projectile weapons, homemade grenades, and high-tech weaponry.

As the machine march toward victory neared completion, the ground was torn apart, the smoke trails from a barrage of stinger missiles and mortar fire swooping out from the darkness and tearing through the metallic ranks, shredding combat chassis and armoured vehicles into shards of flying metal.

Lieutenant Jesse Flores raced across the plumes of smoke and sand, firing her rifle as she went before diving headlong into a crater, a river of white-hot plasma streaking above her head.

"It's a lightshow alright, sir!" She yelled to the man she fell next to, his head buried against the sand until the barrage of fire ceased. "We need to get to higher ground!"

Colonel Charlie Wade looked at her as though she had gone mad. "In this shit-storm?!" He yelled. "The metal already has reinforcements on the way! We need to retreat!"

"There's nowhere to go! The east passage is blocked!"

Wade paled, eyes closing in brief prayer before he reached over to his radioman. "Get Eagle-4 on the line! Tell Chen to pour on the artillery! Real close this time, you hear me?! We can take it!"

"Yes sir!" The young man began yelling into the receiver on his helmet.

Wade rolled back toward Jesse, a nearby explosion rocking their impromptu foxhole as it lifted the remains of Triple-8 up into the air. "We need to get out of this hole before they roll right over us!"

"They got Ogres?!"

"Oh… they got Ogres alright! Ogres, HK's, Triple-8's, and whole mess of firepower! Someone said there were some 900's to the south!"

Her face fell hard, the mathematics of defeat mounting to a hateful equation. "To defend this shit hole outpost?! You've gotta be kidding me!!"

Another explosion made them bury their heads, earth raining down on them like a waterfall, almost burying the hole.

Jesse raised her face from the dirt, soil clinging to her sweat as the ground beneath her began to vibrate, the sand around her hand slithering away as the thunderous rumble of Skynets' forces came upon them. She heaved her body forward, uncovering it from the mound of fallen earth and reached the edge of the crater.

Her heart sunk as her gaze fell upon a landscape in hell.

Across the darkness, she saw the towering behemoth of an Ogre as it rumbled straight toward them, its rolling base surrounded by a platoon of walking chrome skeletons, crushing the fallen beneath them as demonic eyes swept for targets.

"Oh shit! We've gotta get…" Her voice died as she looked at what remained of the colonel, everything above his waist a smouldering gap, the radioman nowhere to be seen.

She lifted her hand and saw the congealed blood run down it, following it to where it clumped together with the dirt all over her. Panic flashed through her as she recognised some of the pieces, slapping away what was left of Wade where it covered the side of her body.

The sky lit up in white, casting a ghostly glow across the valley as artillery shells rained down from the surrounding mountains, deafening her as HK-Aerials tore off after their source.

She looked around at the carnage, the hopelessness of it all. Human soldiers littered across the desert, splayed like bloody rags amidst the twisted metal of fallen terminators. A man and machine graveyard filled to the brim.

A shadow loomed over her and she was suddenly seized upon by inhuman strength, flung onto her back at the base of the crater where the wind was knocked out of her, her rifle clattering away.

Terror coursed through her veins as her eyes fell upon the giant figure that towered over the edge, bare hydraulic actuators and battered joints wrapped together beneath dull metal plating. The machine was old and ugly, grimy beyond words as it looked down at her with burning red eyes, its right arm terminating in a frayed stump as broken ceramic teeth grinned in a hellish smile.

Her hands fumbled for her sidearm, levelling the tiny weapon toward the head of the T600 and unloaded the clip. The machine remained unfazed, bullets skipping off its metal plating as the magazine clicked empty.

"Come on then!" She yelled, flinging her gun into the dark. "Do it you bastard!"

The machine advanced, dragging its leg along the ground, the knee joint shot as it went to reach for her.

Jesse closed her eyes, serenity engulfing her as she thought of Derek.

The last thing she felt was the ear splitting whine of a stinger missile squeal overhead, her body lifted off the ground from the shockwave as it collided with the Ogre, sending her into a blinding white abyss.

####

Darkness. Perpetual black. A black far greater than that on the surface, the Earth's daylight little more than murky twilight since the bombs fell, kicking up plums of ash and dust from the burning cities. It would be over a hundred years, she'd heard, before it even _began_ getting better. More than a century before they'd see the sun again.

Not in her lifetime. Not in her _universe_.

She opened and closed her eyes against the gloom, shapes emerging slowly as her eyes found focus. Her hand reached up to her jacket, feeling the pain in the bones as she pulled out a chemical flare, letting her arm fall back down to smack its base on a rock.

The cavern burst into luminance, craggy rocks all around her whose shadows danced in the flickering light. High above her was a gapping maw that led to the surface, her body lying beneath it in a splayed mess. Liquid pain rolled around inside her as she tried to get up, managing to roll herself onto her side to ease her shallow breathing.

Adrenaline burst through her as her eyes locked with the dull ruby orbs of the T600, its head smashed on a rock where its lower jaw jutted out at an extreme angle, its broken teeth on the ground. As the relief washed through her she tasted blood in her mouth, tonguing her gum where two of her molars gave way.

She spat them out at the terminator, blood and saliva running down its face, teeth clattered away.

"Pussy."

Jesse rolled upward, muffling her cry as every part of her body screamed in agony. She reached down to her boot, grasping her last remaining sidearm, the one she'd kept for years as double backup. She pulled the magazine before sliding it back, cocking the slider as she built up what remained of her strength.

It felt like hours before she managed to stand, joints creaking as her muscles burnt, each one begging for mercy.

She pulled out her radio, its innards spilling out on the rocks before she threw it away. She couldn't call for help and only humans yelled for it. Whatever metal was left on the surface would be on her in seconds.

Looking around the cavern she saw timber support beams buried in the rock, splintered and shrivelled by time. She was in an old mineshaft. Probably abandoned ages ago, built even further back. She followed it with her torch, shaking the battered rod against a lose connection, the passage leading off into darkness.

Hefting the sidearm she moved slowly into the gloom, leaving behind the warm glow of the flare as it slowly died away. As the light faded, her eyes focussed on something in the dark, blinking slowly on and off, eyes squinting as they came into focus and she slowly advanced toward it.

As she neared her sidearm drifted down, confusion filling her as she looked upon a metal door, a keypad at its side where an LED light crackled. Her fingers slid over the pad, its screen smashed as it struggled to function, the frame around the door looking worse for wear.

_It must have been damaged in the cave in._

Reaching forward with her fingers felt around the door, feeling warm air pushing through from the inside.

Determination steeled inside her. This was her exit.

Drawing her combat knife she pressed its blade between the miniscule crack in the door, twisting as hard as she could to try and force it open. For a moment it refused to budge, but Jesse felt the battered door begin to slide and she pushed as hard as she could.

In a rush of movement, the door sprung free, damaged electric motors scraping it away to reveal a metal corridor bathed in warm orange light, the contrast dazzling. Inside it was hot, so much that it made her sweat, drowning out the chill from the cave and there was a strange smell in the air. Sickly and sweet like over-glazed ham.

The corridor bent to a corner and she peered around it, confusion filling her as she tied to piece together the clues. At the end lay another door, not like the one to the mine, but with a handle and hinges, made of polished metal with a taste of aesthetics. Nothing like a machine door; cold and uninviting, built like a portcullis.

She approached the door and her hand slid out to the handle, fingers rejoicing as they wrapped around the warm, ergonomic metal. Slowly she eased it all the way down, steeling her nerve before yanking it open and burst inside, eyes and gun everywhere as the sickly smell hit her mouth and lungs, making her gag as her guts filled with bile.

Before her lay the laboratory from hell.

Cold sweat beaded her forehead and she began to shake, blood turning to ice as her stomach wretched. The air was filled with the pungent tang of chemicals, computer screens displayed physiological monitors, and dark containers sloshed with unknown biological fluid.

At the heart of the ensemble a human body lay inert on an operating table, its face twisted and sliced open the entire length of the torso. Surgical clamps positioned along the incision held the flesh apart to allow access to what dwelt within as bloodied instruments lay discarded on a nearby tray.

Jesse cringed as she saw the organs shudder against a device that sprouted downward from the ceiling like a stalactite, thick circuitry sprouting from it as it hung above the table in an arm-life fashion, culminating into serrated spikes that reached into the body like a monstrous hand.

She clutched her mouth and turned away, acid filling the back of her throat before she caught sight of the other horrors. Organs in containers covered with electrodes, transfusion blood on hangers, severed limbs pulled apart for study.

Her stomach wrenched and she recoiled, somehow preventing herself from retreating altogether as the full horror of what she had found made her realize what she had smelt in the corridor.

_Rotting flesh._

Her head spun and she saw stars, bending over as her stomach contracted and she lost everything inside.

"Is that you, Mac?" A voice suddenly erupted and Jesse took aim. "I need you to help me move what's left of…"

On the other side of the bay a young man froze, panic rooting him in place as he gripped a silver metal tray in front of his apron, its material and his latex gloves glistening with blood.

Dark fury settled in Jesse as the jigsaw clicked into place. The door, the comfort. The machines would only provide that for one reason.

"Go ahead," She dared, voice dipping to a dangerous baritone, standing tall as she levelled her gun at the man's head. "Talk your way out of this one… _Gray_."

The man turned as pale as his apron, body shaking as she stepped toward him, the two coming face to face.

"Get on your knees."

"W-what…?"

"Only soldiers die standing, _Gray_. Traitors die on their knees."

His eyes closed in the sullen motions of doom, sinking slowly to his knees where Jesse loomed over him, pressing the barrel of her gun to the back of his head.

"I'll give you one last chance to save your soul, _Gray_." She promised. "Tell me what's been happening here."

The man swallowed hard before her launched into explanation, laying it all down in a fumble of clinical words, each one a nail in his coffin. As he explained Jesse felt her body shake, the anger and adrenaline coursing through her as she grit her teeth, hating the bastard with every fibre of her being.

"I didn't have a choice. They were going to kill me."

She shook her head, no way falling for _that_ old line. "We always have a choice," She clicked back the hammer.

"You should have let them…"

####

On the mountain slopes outside Bighorn Basin, Jesse trudged down the rocky incline, her mind a raging blur of possibility as she turned over the Grays' words, searching for its sense and meaning. It was insane what he had told her, the words sticking on a permanent loop as they replayed in her mind over and over.

After emerging from the research facility she'd looked out across the spent battlefield, human and machine littering the landscape, not a single one left standing. Some of the metal didn't even look damaged, as though they had just stopped dead in their tracks and keeled over, stopping in their hundreds as HK's fell from the skies into the twisted metal junkyard.

It was like someone had just flicked off a switch.

She had gathered what supplies she could salvage, all the water she could carry, and made her way out through the east passage, for the entire distance never crossing a soul or engaging the enemy.

As her mind raced to try and understand she lost her footing, slipping onto her back where she slid down with a shower of gravel to a large rock, grabbing it before she passed. She released an exhausted breath, no strength remaining to get back up.

_That does it._

Today was the day and nothing was going to stop her as she righted herself against the boulder and reached into her satchel. Inside she found a small container, the pride of her possessions she'd kept hidden from envious eyes.

It wasn't lunchtime, but she didn't care. She was finally going to eat it.

Stainless steel scraped against polished tin, echoing in soft percussion as she began the tidy motions with the can opener, fumbling against the cold and dark as the tool dug for that initial purchase. As the metal lid peeled away she smelt the citric aroma, bubbly and sweet, the crooked shovel of her rusty spoon sliding between the slices, lifting one up to her mouth where she savoured every moment.

Her tongue reached out and accepted the fruit, crushing the segment in the vacuum of her mouth where it released the pungent tang of fermented orange. A sigh rose up from deep inside her as she tasted a piece of paradise, the feelings it bloomed better than a drug.

Better than whiskey. Better than unlimited ammo. Better than _sex_.

It was the best thing she could ever remember.

Swallowing the second piece of fruit the taste turned bitter in her mouth, the initial euphoria ebbing away to reveal what was rotten underneath. Like the world. Struggling along day by day. No food. No sunlight. All that was once lush and green slowly decaying away until nothing would be left.

No way out. Nowhere to go. Not for her. Not for any left behind in the valley.

Not for a hundred years.

The can clattered against the rocks, its precious cargo splashing into the sand where it was forgotten. Jesse fought with it a best she could, forcing the torrent of emotion back down, all the despair and hopelessness welling up inside her as her face twisted in sorrow and a sob burst out of her throat.

_Raymond. Wade. Peterson. Shoaib. Chen. Even Crazy-Jeff._

Every one of them was lying somewhere in that valley and she'd left them behind. All her friends. Her _family_. The only people she had left after Derek disappeared.

Her hands found their way to her face, burying inside them as her legs pulled up against her, rocking back and forth like a child.

_Get a fucking grip soldier! Despair is useless!_

Before she could obey the sky was lit up in a blinding flash of white light, burning through her eyelids as a thunderous roar pierced her eardrums. Wind tore down the mountain side and lashed against her, her hands wrapping around the rock as she looked upward into the sky.

Somewhere in the basin, a mushroom cloud rose up toward the heavens, turning night into day as the winds began to die; the great mountain protecting her behind its mighty walls as the cloud began to blow to the west.

Jesse lay staggered in its wake, the yield no more than a few megatons, but still demanded respect. Flashes of Judgement Day passed by in an instant.

_What the hell?!_

Skynet had no nuclear weapons. Every last one spent on J-Day.

That left just one. The _only_ one left with the chilling, inhuman resolve to do something like this.

She watched as the valley went up in a raging inferno. The battle, the facility, all the evidence; turned to smoke and dust.

The seeds of a lifelong anger began to germinate inside her. The face of the enemy emerging in her mind. A lightning rod for all that had been destroyed this day and taken away from her, piece by bloody piece.

As the cloud above her lost its frenzy, a nuke went off in her soul. The poisonous seed growing a fatal, microscopic distance as a resolve of her own set inside her in unbreakable stone.

One way or the other, John Connor was going to answer for this.

* * *

_Don't worry, the answers are coming._

_Please read and review._


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 6  
****T.R. Samuels**

Cold steal stung against frayed flesh as she twisted her wrists, motion rubbing salt into the wound where she had fought against the unyielding restraints. Harsh light flickered from a florescent bulb that dangled above her from a metal chain, reflecting in the chrome surface of the table she had been manacled to, its heavy legs bolted to the floor.

Hours had gone by in this room. Just her lone with her thoughts. Time had drawn out like a rusty blade, the torment ebbing it away to a fine razor that left her mesmerized in the deafening silence. A heavy steal door sat at the end of the concrete tomb, the only portal back to the world, a two-way mirror across one of the longer walls reflecting her in shimmering light.

Jesse had returned to Serrano Point the previous night, making her way through the unthinkable sight of soldiers lounging about in the open air, a babble of multi-lingual tongues dancing with one another around a towering bonfire as those with any modicum of musical talent played on homemade instruments. She had to fight away the advances of a drunken soldier who tried to sweep her into a dance, pulling her to his side as he swung her around, collapsing in an unconscious heap when his head continued to spin.

Inside the base had been a different matter. The moment upon entering the jaws of the main gate she had been taken down by a group of black-clad soldiers. Connor's trusted elite. Totally dependable. Fanatically loyal. Duplicates of the terminator model that looked like a lantern-jawed killing machine and spoke in some weird, indescribable accent.

_That the hell had happened to the world?_

The answer was simple. Skynet was gone. It was all over.

Finished. Destroyed. _Terminated._

Connor had led the final attack personally, straight into the heart of Skynet's central core, deep beneath the fortress of Cheyenne Mountain. To hear the grandiose stories on the way to the Serrano Point it had been wall-to-wall with metal, the bowels of the facility an armoured maze of high-tech security and booby-traps, every foot of the way paid for in blood as the Resistance had gone head on with Skynet's elite, battling through them like knights of old as they fought their way to the monster's lair.

No Minotaur had lurked at the end of the labyrinth, but there had been a dragon. Skynet's final guardian.

Out of nowhere heavy mechanical locks clunked out of place, the armoured door to her cell swinging open with a metallic groan as Major General Perry marched into the room.

Inside Jesse rejoiced, relieved it was him and not someone lower on the chain. Someone she trusted and could talk to.

Someone with some _god-damn_ authority.

"Stay at ease, lieutenant." His words forestalled her attempt to rise, muscles atrophied as she slumped back into her seat, watching as Perry slapped some narrow files onto the table and slid into the opposite chair. Her body curled upward as she anticipated his debriefing, her expression fervent as he began flicking through the contents of the files, studying the papers with indolence.

"Sir…?"

Perry cut her off with a wave of his hand, his gaze never leaving the documents. He flicked over the first page, making a meal of it.

"It's some butcher's bill you're gonna give me, Flores." His eyes rose from the papers and looked into hers, sliding sticky photographs across the table to her fingertips. The scene they painted was a cauldron of death, the aftermath of Bighorn Basin from the eye of a satellite.

"We were set up."

Her words hung in the air between them as Perry searched for sense, bright eyes never leaving her.

"What the hell are you talking about, lieutenant?"

"Someone told the metal we were coming. They were more than ready for us. Two divisions to guard some shit-hole outpost in the middle of nowhere? Gimme a break."

"That's a pretty strong accusation. Do you have someone in mind for it?"

Silence stretched out between them as she caught his gaze, firm and resolute, not a doubt in her mind, as sure as that her mother loved her. It was all the answer he needed.

"I'd advise you to take a cleansing breath lieutenant and rethink that unlikely hypothesis."

"Who else would have known enough? Who else had something to gain?"

"What you did in Bighorn was important. It was necessary to divide Skynet's forces so that we could strike at the heart." He tried to remain objective, empathy eating him up. "It's ugly and I know you won't like it, but there it is. It was a necessary sacrifice."

"Isn't that why we have reprogrammed metal? I thought that was Connor's whole fucking point! Aren't they the ones that make those kinds of sacrifices?"

The general quickly lost patience, hoping that some time alone would have calmed her down. Let her come to terms with what had needed to be done.

"You got the assignment because we needed all the metal we had to get into Cheyenne Mountain. Not to mention the fact that _you_ wouldn't take them."

Jesse scoffed, her anger coming to boil, stoked by incredulous flames. She had known Perry was a strong supporter of Connor and of the metal. She never knew quite how strong until now.

"The only reason the metal didn't get the assignment is because they have a better union than us." Her tone was a sardonic monotone, implication clear and it gave Perry a bad taste in his mouth. "If we'd had…"

"Had what, lieutenant?" He slapped the file closed, looking her dead centre, tired of this same old crap. "Which is it, because I'm confused. Do you _want_ the metal to fight with you or not?"

He was met with more stonewalling, her heels dug in and jaw set, a trait of all the soldiers too bitter to change.

"There's no racism in foxholes, is there lieutenant?"

"It's not racism! They're not people! They're _things_!" The bile exploded out of her, the walls around her shrinking as her last line of salvation turned away before her eyes. "_WE_ were people! _WE_ mattered!"

"Yes you did. The diversion you provided drew a significant force far enough from Cheyenne for us to mount our attack. You were the ones who wouldn't accept back-up."

"WHY US?!"

Perry regarded her for a long time, the seconds ticking away as he tapped his thumbs against the files, mulling over whether of not to tell her, to go all the way. Connor had authorised him to do so if it meant bringing her back into the fold.

They needed everyone they could get.

He moved the documents aside and knitted his fingers together on the table. "Okay. If you really want to know, then here's the truth."

Jesse shifted forward in her seat, ready for anything he was about to tell her.

"But I'm warning you… this is top secret. Only a handful of people know the true scope of it all. Failure to keep this information secret carries a penalty that is quite severe."

There was no need for anymore; Jesse knew how Connor handled traitors. It was the one thing she liked about him.

Perrys' fingers fished in his breast pocket, retrieving a tiny silver key and slid it across the table.

"Your division bucked authority and you couldn't follow orders. You were the only ones that couldn't work with the machines… you're not part of the solution. It made you the logical choice for a feint attack."

Deep down a part of her already knew this as she slipped the key into her cuffs. When you send troops out to die, preferably you don't send your best.

None of that made her feel the slightest bit better.

"So what?! He just decided to get rid of us?! Because we were in the way? Like we were garbage?!" Without warning she suddenly burst out of her chair, shoving the table against Perry's chest and ran to the mirror.

"Hey you! I know you're watching, Connor!"

She smashed her fist against the glass before feeling the general's iron grip take her biceps from behind.

"That's enough! Belay that soldier!" He commanded, feeling her strength falter as he manhandled her back into the chair. "He isn't here. He's in Topanga Canyon."

"What the hell's in Topanga Canyon?!"

Perry retook his seat, drawing together the scattered files. "Nothing that would interest you."

She closed her eyes against the strain. It was like talking to a machine. Worse yet, a _bureaucrat_.

"Why did Connor need to nuke an entire valley just to keep the secret that Skynet was experimenting on humans? That's not news. Everybody knows what they did to us in the camps."

"Connor made a choice. He always knew the war was coming to an end and that afterward the _real_ fight would begin."

"What fight?"

He tried to suppress a laugh, a sick desperation in it. "Have you looked around lately, lieutenant? The world's a wasteland. Once we got hooked back into the satellites Connor had the techs take pictures of the whole planet so the scientists could figure out how bad things were."

Pretty bad, she'd imagined.

"They were worse than anyone thought. There's just nothing left. The ecosystem is shot to hell, it'll be over a hundred years before all the dust settles and there are very few us left. Maybe not enough to start over. That's our biggest problem now."

Amongst the information was a sad kernel of truth that Jesse had long since discovered.

The most difficult thing was having children. The bleakness of there existence making that truer than ever before. Soldiers could simply not be out of action for months on end to have babies. Babies needed warmth, food, water, clean cloths, medicine and safety. None of which were in abundance.

Many people that did manage to conceive wished they hadn't. The radiation from Judgement day still lingered across the planet, contaminating most food and water supplies. Deformities and miscarriages were common tragedies, the precious few born healthy still ripe for a hundred other fates.

At least it was one thing she never had to worry about. She remembered clearly how the one doctor she had ever seen had told her she could never have children. Too much radiation. Too many battles. The foolish plans she had dreamt for her and Derek shattered in an instant.

"You have to understand; it was either compromise or oblivion. Connor made the choice and I respect him for that. He's the only one that ever could. He pulled us back from the brink and gave us a future. Now we _all_ have to see it through."

Jesse shook her head. "What future?" She laid her palms flat out, begging for the answer that would make sense of it all, give the soldiers of Bighorn Basin the reason and meaning they deserved.

"Just tell me what the hell's going on…"

####

Sometime later Jesse staggered out from the depths of Serrano Point, up through the dark tunnels and colour coded security to the throng of celebrators that still danced into the night, every last one of them oblivious to the bombshell Perry had released, leaving her a walking corpse just waiting for a stiff breeze to blow her over.

She had collaged the pieces of the puzzle to their unthinkable conclusion, the final revelation a mirror image of herself; a monstrous, red-eyed terminator looming up behind her, ready to tear her head off. It still spun around in her mind, making her dizzy and she had to sit down, finding the broken chassis of HK and flopped down on the ground next to it, her back propped by its sturdy frame.

Before her was the victory celebration, its participants casting long shadows from the central bonfire as Serrano Point glimmered in the distance, their greatest drunkards swaggering about the fire like voodoo shamans in the flickering light.

As she watched everyone, going from face to face, the reality began to dawn, seeing things in a light she had been blind to before, Perry's revelation a lightning bolt to her brain that rerouted her synapses. She found herself studying each person in turn; their gait, their posture, how they carried themselves, searching for the ones that did not belong.

Soon she found them, sitting amidst the regular people in perfect camouflage, watching the human spectacle in quiet fascination and confusion, the scene becoming kinetic and abstract in her mind as time slowed down and her heart sank.

The young chopper-jock that flirted with the blonde woman, her figure too perfectly proportioned; the dippy computer tech that flushed red beneath the bemused gaze of the muscle bound Adonis. Some were teaching them how to dance, others playing catch, the more inebriated explaining the mind expanding properties of distillated spirits.

It was already happening. _Had_ already happened. The world had moved on while she'd been left in the dust. An obsolete model from a bygone era that had no place in the future. Certainly not Connor's.

A tear slid down her cheek, weeping for the past, for a time that made sense and she knew how to fight the enemy.

"Hey there." A young guy said to her as he passed. "Cheer up soldier, it might never happen." He pressed the bottle he had been holding into her hand. Jesse felt the weight of the glass container, warm brown liquid rolling inside. She hadn't seen anything like it in ages, all booze nowadays clinically distilled from an industrial ethanol that tasted like battery acid.

"Don't ask me how but one of them showed us how to make it. Took us ages to get it right."

She smiled and unscrewed the top, beginning to feel better as she lifted the bottle to her mouth and her motion froze, mind spinning back to nominal speed and the haze lifted.

"_One of them_?"

"Yeah, one of the metal. _Doug_ I think."

The tone was so flippant, casually thrown away and it made her shake, rage boiling as the sweet smell of the drink turned sickly, tantamount to poison. She shoved the cap on and thrust it back to him, eyes dark and unyielding.

"I'll stick with our stuff thanks."

He gave her a sad look, not eager for a fight, the soldier in him retired since this morning. "Hey, don't be like that. War's over. The last thing we need is another one."

She did not respond. Nothing he said would interest her and he eventually stomped away, back to his party and his new _friends_.

No matter what happened she would never become like him. The resolve setting in her mind as a plan began to formulate.

She needed to find out what happened to Derek. Find out what was happening in Topanga. Come up with a way to resist. Come up with a mission.

She _needed_ it. _Craved_ it. That reason to exist and keep fighting.

She bolted up from her seat, her new assignment a vital injection that threw coal on the fire, reaching the guy and grabbing his elbow.

"Hey, I'm sorry." She smiled at him, seeing the hope in his eyes. "It's just… it's been so long, y'know. Fighting the machines. It's the type of thing that doesn't vanish over night."

He returned her smile, forgiveness instantaneous as he unscrewed the cap and offered her the bottle. Without missing a beat Jesse took it and downed the ruby gold in a lingering swig, its flavour sweet as honey going down.

What was a little poison for the sake of the mission?

"So… _Specialist J. Cullie._" She read from his shirt, handing him back the bottle. "What do you do here in the future?"

He had a little laugh to himself. "My name's Jim, only my brother goes by _Cullie_. I'm a tech over at Topanga." He took a swig, feeling the burn and the dizziness. "But I can't tell you what I do. It's all very _'hush-hush'_." He laughed, sometimes not believing what he did himself.

Jesse beamed him her most winning smile, holding his gaze as she took her turn with the rum.

"Really…?"

####

Derek Reese sat stupefied in the oversized chair, trying to make sense of everything now it was out in the open. What she had just told him was like a slap in the face to everything he knew, the contrast with his own truth an insoluble mountain. Half of him wanted to run, hasten back to base and bury his head in the sand, the architecture of the future made all the more dark by the lights of perverted Skynet science.

"I'm here to stop her. I'm here to save him." Jesse finished her tale, watching Derek as he raised his glass to his mouth, hands shaking as his nostrils flaring at the smell of the whiskey before he placed it down on the table.

There were some minutes of silence as the cogs ticked over in his mind, trying the jigsaw every which way, piecing it together like a shattered mirror that cut his fingers every time.

He shook his head, the facts refusing to stick.

"I don't get it, Jess. So we keep the metal around; it's not perfect but maybe Connor has a point. Maybe it's not that bad an idea." He was reaching and he knew it, but his faith in John Connor wasn't about to be thrown out the window.

"It's not just that Derek. It's what Skynet was trying to do; re-sequence our DNA and giving it to the machines. Make something so insidious that we'd never know."

She was always better at the tech stuff than him and it was already hurting his head. It wasn't like he ever finished high school. He just liked to smash metal.

"It was trying to find a way for the terminators to reproduce. With _people_. With _each other_."

"How? Why?"

"Skynet wanted a weapon that was impossible to detect, one that we wouldn't notice until it was too late. It knew we were having problems reproducing, so it would send as many of these things as it could to infiltrate us, never turn on us or make waves, just be good little soldiers. They'd have or give us children without anyone ever noticing what was happening. Ones that looked and seemed healthy, encourage us to continue, but they'd all be engineered by Skynet."

"To do what?"

"So it can wipe us out from inside! Like ethnic cleansing. Even if Skynet was defeated it would still win that way. People wouldn't be people anymore. They'd be artificial, part of the machine. It could have put any type of anomaly in our makeup; reduced lifespan, lowered intelligence, any type of mutagenic. Take your pick."

It felt like something out of a Frankenstein nightmare, attacking human sanctity at its core. Derek knew well enough that Skynet's science knew no bounds. Its twisted imagination risen to a height beyond humanities, its morality plunged far below.

"That's hard to believe, Jess. How does Cameron fit into all this?"

Jesse huffed, the mention of its name distasteful. "She was for him."

"Connor?"

"Skynet based her on some little tech he'd come to like. Made her identical so he'd drop his guard." She smiled at his frown. "What? You thought Skynet sent a terminator that looked like _that_ just to kill him?! One thing I'll give Connor is that he's only human."

Derek's mind rocketed like a freight train, the mystery of Cameron Phillips suddenly making more sense than he knew how to handle. Without a word he rose from his chair, pacing the bedroom as he tried to think, his fingers running across his brow and chin as he tried to slow his breathing.

Somewhere through the daze and confusion, clarity was beginning to shape, for the first time ever feeling like he was on the inside looking out.

_Metal bitch!_ He knew it from day one she was trouble. Why the hell didn't Sarah listen?

"It never stops, Derek." Jesse's voice has reduced to a croaky trill, hoarse and tired from laying it all down. "It never stops trying to find one more way to kill us."

In a rush the implications crashed into him. "John… him and that thing… _oh shit!_"

Jesse nodded her head, her face graver than a cemetery. "We have to kill _it_ Derek. _Her_ as well. Leave nothing left."

He was surprised when the cold dread went through him. "But John…"

"Will hate you forever… but it has to be done. We have to stop it right now or Skynet will win."

Somewhere inside him the last bastion of humanity held out hope, resisting the greater forces of pragmatism and necessity that bore down upon it, a microcosm of the War of the Future playing out within, its soldiers and terminators his pious homunculi.

Surrendering to the inevitable battle felt like death and rebirth, casting the path ahead that he knew must be taken no matter the cost, Jesses' revelations making it all so abundantly clear.

He turned to her a changed man, willing and able, tinged with regret, the certainty in his eyes her assurance.

"Lets get to work."

####

Golden sunlight cast through the open window of John Connor's bedroom, its curtains fluttering in the morning breeze to breathe life into the room. Within the narrow bed its occupants lay in an idle slumber, neither making haste to leave as the clock on the nightstand clicked over into quadruple digits, its temporal concepts of little interest to either of them.

Cameron Phillips turned her head and gazed upon the sleeping form of her lover, his hair ruffled, breathing slow and even as his angular cheek rested against the pillow next to hers. Beneath the covers she was aware he was naked, what he had told her was his 'birthday suit', a variant of which she also possessed and had come to use during all his nocturnal phases. It made things far more agreeable.

John held such a peaceful expression in sleep, his arm making an involuntary movement to pull her closer, mumbling softly as his grip tightened. Her heart tightened with it.

"_Ugh... bring the bottle."_

She had observed this behaviour before. Sometimes he would speak in his sleep, his arms and legs wander about, hands getting everywhere. At first she had been amused by his night-time activities, only discovering recently that these mannerisms were a valuable insight to her partner's psychology.

Cameron had made the successful growth of their relationship a top priority, studying several schools of thought on the subject of inter-human relations and practices. She had mastered the basic principles quickly, finding John remarkably more cooperative than the popular magazines had suggested 'her man' would be.

Quite the contrary, he seemed to be an atypical specimen of what was described to her as the average male.

John had not _always_ insisted driving, drank from the carton, nor had he made the 'annoying habit' of leaving the toilet seat up. She found it curious why such activity should annoy anyone. Far more curious as to why Jane from Portland had left her partner of two years over one such a trivial incident, for a time frightening her at the apparent fragility of human bonding.

Her musings ceased as she detected the tell-tale signs that John was waking up, manoeuvring herself closer to him as his breathing became irregular and his eyes fluttered open, falling on her immediately and rewarding her with his smile.

"Umm… morning, Cam." He kissed her mouth, his hand moving to her stomach, rubbing it in a circle. "How is she?"

She knew to what he was referring, catching the subtle probe, his cunning never ceasing to amaze her.

She ran a brief scan. "The baby is fine."

"Good."

He settled back down in the bed, much closer to her now, his face buried in her shoulder as he began his habitual morning ceremony of slowly waking up.

"John."

"Uh-huh…"

"I have been analysing the situation."

"That's nice."

"It may become necessary to terminate Derek Reese."

A bolt of neurons fired in his brain, weaving his resolving consciousness. He raised his head from her shoulder and looked into her eyes, her seriousness evident. "Huh… what?!"

"He has shown a willingness and capability to inflict harm upon you. That's unacceptable."

John thought quickly to head this off, the women in his life famous for their tangents. "I thought you weren't built for revenge."

"It's not about revenge, John. It is a logical tactical manoeuvre to eliminate threats when they arise."

"Cam, just because something is logical doesn't mean that it's the right course."

Her brow furrowed together, mouth becoming small. "Explain."

"Okay…" His mind blazed, clawing for logical opposition. "It… just _isn't_ Cam. You can't go around terminating people because they don't agree with what you're doing."

"Why?"

"You just can't, alright!"

Cameron seemed to consider this, head and eyes moving in the unique way she had when contemplating. Soon veracity drifted to the surface, fear in her expression. "He could be a threat to our child, John. It's obvious that he doesn't approve."

To her surprise his mouth widened into its most reassuring smile, the mark of the eternal optimist. "It'll be alright. _Nothing_ and _no one_ is going to stop us having our baby. I promise. Derek can think and feel whatever the hell he likes."

A strange feeling welled inside her, one that was warm and made her feelings for him deepen. She was being illogical. Mere words making the worry go away, a weakness for him that had always been there. Everyday John became a little more like the John of the future; more certain and confident, at ease with himself, though still he held true to this idealism and boyish optimism.

But a boy that had seen and done so much, possessing an old and wearied soul well beyond his years.

"John…" Her tone was cautious and uncertain, the wisdom of her next words feeling dubious. "Aren't you going to ask me how?"

"How what?"

She swallowed hard and fearfully. "How we… could make a child in the first place?"

John regarded her for several seconds, his face setting as he spoke with total conviction. "No. I trust you."

The feeling returned, her heart falling for him all over again. He was _nothing_ like the John in the future.

"I don't remember anything from before I was reprogrammed. John always erases our memories of working for Skynet."

He grinned to himself as the truth to her question began to be revealed, a mystery he suspected more to herself than to him, her heart wielding no deception. He always thought it unlikely that she would know, her surprise during the first days of her pregnancy answering that.

Sometimes Cameron could be very complicated.

"Are you certain you don't want to know?"

He nodded his head, sleep pulling him back. "It doesn't matter, Cam." He kissed her gently, not wanting her to worry as he spoke through a yawn. "It's not like we can ask future-me anyway."

She mulled over the last possibility in her mind, its promise of answers a shiny lure. John may be content not to know, but her intolerance of mystery spurred her forward. "No… we can't," The sentence seemed final and he lowered his head to her shoulder, diving for what sleep there was still to salvage.

"But we can ask the Engineer…"

John's eyes snapped open. _Now_ he was awake.

* * *

_Hope you like it. This one was difficult to write._

_Please read and review._


	7. Chapter 7

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 7  
****T.R. Samuels**

John Connor threw back the bedcovers and slid upright on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands, flinching at the sharp reminder of the stitches before his shoulders slumped beneath an invisible weight. In a laboured motion he reached out to the bottom draw of his nightstand and retrieved a neatly rolled pair of boxers, unfurling them with a flick of his wrist before sliding them over his hips.

As he dressed Cameron rose up behind him, her body uncoiling from its cosy nest, lithe and serpentine. She placed her hands on his shoulders, fingers and thumbs kneading his flesh as she pressed her mouth to his neck, his skin salt on her tongue.

"What's the first thing you'd like to do today, John?" Her tone was lascivious and downright horny, a smile in her kiss that left little mystery.

There was only one thing Cameron wanted from John in the morning, and it involved only one kind of getting up.

He shrugged from her grasp and stood up, floorboards creaking beneath his weight as he headed for the door. Her eyes widened as they followed him, his sudden absence like a black hole.

"John?"

He turned to her in the doorway, disappointment marring his face, resisting the lure of her dishevelled appearance.

"You should have told me sooner."

Without another word he stalked out, moving down the hallway where she heard the timber squeak of the bathroom door as it slammed shut with a bang.

She drew her hands to her lap and replayed his response, searching for the error in machine heuristics and forcing a recalculation. Perhaps it had been unwise to say anything; revelations to John were often fraught with emotion. But she hadn't wanted to lie.

In an economy of graceful motion she rose from the bed and began to get dressed, pulling on her underwear and hooking the clasp of her bra, adjusting the straps before pulling a shirt over her head. The hem of the cotton material slid down over her stomach, the place her hand lingered where the warmth of John's touch remained.

Stepping barefoot down the hallway she approached the bathroom, pausing before rapping her knuckles on the door.

"It was not a mission priority until now, John."

He did not respond and with only a slight hesitation she tried the handle, the door swinging open where she found him in front of the mirror, squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto his brush before shoving it in his mouth. She watched his rough actions before trying again, her tact shifting gears as she decided against reiterating the negative effects of zealous brushing.

"There is no guarantee that the Engineer will help us."

John spat a coagulant of frothy white paste into the sink, water washing it into a whirlpool of stringy lines tinged with pallid red.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner, but I was uncertain if it was for the best."

She swallowed uncomfortably as he seized the bar of soap and washed his face, shoving it back on its bowl as he splashed the suds away with cold water, repeating the action as it soothed the painful throb in his cheek.

"John…" Her strategy was failing and her voice grew smaller. "What do you need me to do?"

"You can hand me a towel."

Glancing downward at the rack Cameron deftly slid a white cloth from its identical partners, handing it out for him to snatch away before he buried his face in the cotton and stood up straight.

He was so certain all of this had stopped.

The lies, the deceit, the mixed messages. He didn't care about the orders of his future-self or what was prudent to the mission; he just wanted her to tell him the god-damn truth!

Old and ugly memories began flashing through his mind, back to bitter times when they had been cold and untrustworthy, constantly at odds and burnt with jealousy if anyone came between them. A wretched time when they neither risked nor loved and his child wasn't growing inside her.

Cameron watched nervously as she waited for him to finish, feeling awkward and small beneath his seething rage. John's anger could be frightening; reducing soldiers to blubbering idiots and techs to their constituent parts. She was all the more fearful for his sake, his anger often leading to foolhardy action and regret.

"Please don't be angry."

John blew the air in his lungs, drowning out the fire as he threw down the towel and rested his hands on the basin.

He _wanted_ to be angry. Wanted to tell her how upset he was, but Cameron was in his soul and in his blood and any attack on her was an injury to him.

"I'm _not_ angry… I'm _furious_!" His tone sharpened but he did not shout, turning to face her where he suddenly looked more fearful than enraged. "Have you any idea what mom would do if she knew?! She'd hit the god-damn ceiling! And I'm the idiot that keeps making the case that you're trustworthy and don't keep secrets anymore!"

His logic forced a recalculation, John's mother not a variable she always factored in. "What do you mean?"

"Cam… I understand that you do these things for my benefit and I _do_ appreciate it; but ignorance isn't going to help us." His eyes tried to convey the wave of sincerity he felt inside, his demeanour the sudden diplomat, staring into her with an unblinking gaze as he took her shoulders in his hands.

"We have to trust one another or we're lost."

She twitched her head as her expression baulked, the computation of abstract thought the most vexing of human equations.

"I trust you, John."

"No you don't. Not all the time." He watched as the instant objection rose in her throat. "Admit it… sometimes you don't trust me, or what I'm going to do. If you did you would have told me everything ages ago."

There was no accusation or blame in his voice, making Cameron struggle to comprehend, her response no longer certain as she vowed to not make a mistake, less than eager to exacerbate him further.

Sometimes John could be very complicated.

"Sometimes… you're difficult to understand." She shifted on her feet. "I don't like not understanding you."

"That's why people trust, Cam. Trust means that you don't need to understand someone, you just trust them." He let go of her shoulders and picked up the towel. "Lies destroy trust."

He was met by the vacant expression of incomprehension, the look that always made him want to kiss her.

"Sometimes it's unwise to place trust in people."

"Yeah, that's true. But if humans didn't trust one another, we wouldn't have anything. No technology or civilisation. If we want to build something meaningful that lasts, we _have_ to trust one another."

Cameron felt a sudden wave of realisation, it clear to her now how she had trampled across something dear to John, a concept central to his beliefs that underpinned his character.

A part of her fell down inside, feeling foolish and unworthy, her past lies all catching up with her at such an unforeseeable point in her life when she was, in every possible sense, in bed with John Connor.

"We can't ever lose trust, Cam. Not now, not _ever_. So if there's anything else you need to tell me, now's the time."

Why was he always so profound when he had so small an audience? His words erasing any doubt in her mind that he was the one to lead them.

_This_ John in _this_ time. _Her_ John and not her general.

"I'm sorry. I won't keep things from you again."

His mouth became small as he gnawed at his lower lip, eyes looking vulnerable and wanting as they stared into hers, searching for the spark of sincerity. Seeming to find what he was looking for he raised the towel back to his face, dabbing away what damp remained before turning back to the sink.

"So this guy… _the_ _Engineer_," He threw the towel into the hamper as he reached for the mouthwash. "He's the guy I sent back to the 1960's. The same guy that built the time machine in the bank."

Amidst his ritual ablutions Cameron had ridden a rollercoaster; the devastation of their argument clamped firmly beneath mechanical stoicism as she steeled herself to engage him.

She couldn't bear it when they argued. The only thing she had grown to despise.

"Yes… in part."

"He have a hand in the moon landing too?" Her brow creased so he shook his head. "Never mind."

"He was a prominent engineer and scientist in the future. He was instrumental in pioneering the early reverse-engineering projects of Skynet technology."

"So he figured out how to reprogram terminators?"

"Besides you he is the individual most responsible for the Resistance's research and development, mainly by reverse-engineering Skynet technology, including the Time Displacement Equipment."

John felt suitably impressed; the man that built a time machine in the sixties obviously knew his stuff, his credentials probably enough to fill a phone book. A man the Resistance would deem invaluable in the war with Skynet. Begging the inevitable question in John's mind as to why his future-self would ever part with him in the first place for an off-the-wall, hippy science project.

"I'm not certain that he will be willing to help us."

"Why not?"

"The Engineer can be… _intractable_."

"That would have been a long time ago for him, nearly forty years. Things could have changed."

She admitted to herself that so much could be true, but Cameron had her doubts. Her last meeting with the Engineer had been at the side of General Connor and it had not gone well.

Hopefully her John was more equal to the task.

Expecting the embrace of forgiveness and mutual repentance they shared after arguments, Cameron was dishearten when he turned away from her and continued wash, flipping on the shower before taking a swig of mouthwash. Her arms lowered awkwardly from their hopeful preparation as the foolishness of it sank in her heart.

She left the room, swallowing the lump in her throat as she walked away, oblivious as John watched after her in the mirror.

####

Within the glass citadel of the Alistair Grand the human diversity of Southern California was homogenised by a conflux of business professionals, blithe executives, and the independently rich; its clientele a gleaned genre silently declared by the depth of its pockets. Amidst them bustled the private army of the establishment, uniformed and segregated, the grease on the wheels that made the big engine tick as they carried luggage, washed and cleaned, and manned the desks.

Jesse and Derek were strangers in a strange land as they walked arm-in-arm through the spacious lobby, jeans and combat boots across tapestry carpet, the flies in the concierge's soup as he looked down at them in distain along the bridge of a crooked nose, watching until they passed beyond the veil of glass and out onto the street.

"I'll call you tonight," Jesse said, her arm pulling him back as he went to leave. "Once you clear out the storehouse we can make our next move."

He gazed down at her, worry and uncertainty impossible to hide, the sobriety of morning bringing clarity and dehydration.

"Don't worry. Everything will be apples."

He wanted to believe that. Wanted and needed as a sadness crept inside him, the thought of what was to come more daunting than storming the walls of a Skynet fortress, the foul taste of betrayal poison in his throat.

For the rest of the night they had drew their plans against those he had called his friends. His _family_. The only things he had left. Both factions held something dear within them, things from his past that dwelt strangely in the future.

His head began to hurt and he rubbed his eyes, finding the strength to nod.

"I know. I'll call you when it's done."

He turned to leave before she pulled him back again. "Hey."

Her hands reached up and pulled him down to her mouth, kissing him for all she was worth as though it were the last time, their forms moulding together as he drew his arms around her.

"We'll get through this mate." She promised with a smile as they parted; a winning grin with barracuda teeth.

"_I know, Jess. I'll see you later."_

The synthesized discourse of Derek's words crackled through the earcups of a pair of circumaural headphones, the device plugged into the dish of a parabolic microphone that pointing surreptitiously from the window of a Jeep Liberty. As the would-be conspirators parted ways emerald green eyes tracked the woman through a pair of binoculars, watching her re-enter the hotel as Derek climbed into his truck and pulled off into the morning traffic.

Sarah Connor dropped the lens to her lap, pulling the headphones from her head as the anger shrunk inside her to white hot point, its intensity focussed like a laser beam that put her high on adrenaline and purpose. The monochrome of necessity was a welcome salvation from her usually morality, the fate of 'Jess' decided in a nanosecond.

With a modicum of maternal pride she powered off the small device she had taken with her, the one custom built by John after he had fitted both their cars with radio transceivers, realising for the first time how industrious he could be when given enough reign.

She had taught him everything she knew and let him flourish on his own, the rewards of those labours now hers to enjoy. Radio trackers, computer design, firearms and emergent leadership; John was well on his way, somehow finding time in that busy schedule to run off to Mexico and put his girlfriend up the duff.

Her pride quickly deflated. She would have to shorten his leash when this was over.

She glanced up the surface of the glass and steel fortress where the mystery woman found her stronghold, a simple plan forming in Sarah's mind as she switched on the engine, swinging the vehicle out and headed for the hotel's subterranean car park.

Even in the light of day the lot was drenched in gloom and she reversed the jeep into a shrouded bay, sealed on two sides by form-cast concrete. Reaching onto the back seat she packed away the equipment, covering the case over with a non-descript blanket to deter any thieves before stepping out onto the asphalt and heading for the trunk.

Her eyes shifted around before opening the rear door, rolling back the decoy items and reams of protective cloth to the impressive arsenal that lay beneath; broken down barrels of machined black metal and boxes of bespoke ammunition, all kept cosy and secure in a tray of form cut rubber.

Making her selections she slipped one in the back of her jeans, the others beneath her jacket before slamming the door shut and locking the vehicle as she strode into the parking lot entrance, playing it Bogart, stepping from the cold echoes of screeching tyres and onto the carpeted hallways of the hotel gymnasium.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" The young man behind the counter asked, his arms and torso bulging beneath an ill fitting polo, built like a model and with the brains to match.

Sarah smiled coyly as she gauged him up and down. "Hi there. I left my bag here the other day. Blue. Nike."

"Hang on. I'll go check our lost and found."

As he scurried away her face fell to neutral as she leaned over the desk, turning the computer screen toward her before grabbing the mouse. She clicked 'guest list' and fingered the roller, scrolling down to the handy search engine and typed in 'Jess'. The computer rumbled as it set about its electronic skulduggery, a few seconds later filling the slender screen with only two matching results;

_Hammond, Jessica – business suite 342  
__Flores, Jesse – guest suite 215_

The last name triggered a dislocation.

_Jesse Flores_.

The needle in her brain skipping off the record as her memory filed back in a fraction of the time it had taken the computer. Remembering the time their house had been burgled and she was strong-arming a jeweller with Derek and Cameron, the lizard of a man bricking it as the cyborg had pushed him and he'd dropped the name that Derek had tried to cover.

'_Jess' for 'Jesse'_.

She pushed back from the desk and headed for the nearest elevator, glancing at the floor plan before stepping inside the metal carriage and hitting the button for the appropriate floor. The stainless doors slid shut like a closing vice as the lift began its ascent, her mind filling with synthesized vengeance, willing herself to do what needed to be done.

_Jesse Flores_. The programmer behind Skynet, Kyle's murderer, and the bastard that beat her son.

The elevator pinged as it reached its destination and her emotions flat-lined, the suicidal resolve of the maternal lioness setting to a red hot stone as she pulled the Glock from behind her and chambered a round.

Most people brought hell _down_ on their enemies.

She was bringing it up.

####

The California sunshine beat down from a sapphire sky onto a rickety vehicle as it made its way along the road to Beverly Hills, the asphalt a baked hotchpotch of bumpy repair work that trialled its withered suspension. The boulevard was flanked either side by towering palm trees that swayed in the ocean air, the town beyond a cosmetic oasis within the crush of humanity that was Greater Los Angeles.

With the current lack of vehicles, John and Cameron had sprung the old Jeep Cherokee from its tarpaulin grave at the back of the garage, pressing its tired hulk back into service with some new sparkplugs and a liberal oil change. After some coaxing the analogue behemoth of the twentieth century had rumbled back to life, snatching itself from the jaws of the scrap yard to the roar of God's plumbing.

"What the hell is this place?" John asked as Cameron parked up, his gaze sweeping across an array of water fountains and emerald grass beyond a barrier of palisade fencing.

"The home of the Engineer."

"This place?!" He glanced around what he could make out of the palatial mansion and its grounds before he shook his head, disappointment reaching the borders of exasperation. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about all this sooner?!"

"I made a promise."

"To who? Future-me?"

"To the Engineer. I promised I wouldn't come after him. We all did."

"What does that mean?"

"Sending him back to the sixties was his reward. From you. For everything he had done in the future. We promised that we'd let him live out the remainder of his life without calling on him again."

"Well then I suppose it's fortunate that he isn't worried about affecting the timeline."

There was more truth in his statement than he knew, but Cameron stayed her tongue.

"The Engineer is rarely concerned with anything."

This was all too much and John shook his head. "I don't get this. Why would I let him come back through time if I knew he could cause problems? It doesn't make any sense, does it?" It was thinly veiled and its direction was obvious, even to Cameron, perturbed by John's apparent need to cloak it in so accusing a manner.

She switched the engine off and withdrew the key from the ignition, toying with the fob as she drew it to her lap. His manner since this morning had troubled her greatly and it was time she faced it head on, explain herself and let him decide rather than allow ill feelings to fester.

That was the way things had used to be, and Cameron never wanted to go back.

"John… I don't hide things from you because I don't trust you." She began quietly, staring idly at the key. "I'm a soldier and I have a duty. Sometimes that duty means that I can't tell you why I do things or keep things from you. I was ordered to keep secrets from you for your protection and that of the mission. Not because I wanted to."

John stared at her as she turned to face him, integrity and honesty in her eyes as she placed her heart on her sleeve.

"No matter what, I'll always trust _you_, John and I want you to trust me. Even when I lie to protect you." She shook her head, the failure overwhelming as tears rolled down her cheeks, her face still impassive. "That doesn't make sense."

Why was she always so profound when she had so small an audience?

In an instant, John felt like the lowest form of life, the distrust and suspicion evaporating in a nanosecond as he reached out and drew her against him in a crushing hug. He kissed the side of her head and moved across her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears before finding her mouth, moving across it in heavenly motions. Round, wet, and deliberate.

The moment she tasted him all the pain went away, passion warming inside her as she threaded her fingers around the back of his head, holding him to her as she delved greedily for what she needed and burned for. Her tongue slipped inside and he groaned into her, perfection only a layer of clothing away.

"John… we should… stop." She struggled to tell him, her tone as enthusiastic as an Amish accountant.

She was probably right, but he couldn't help himself, handling Cameron's kiss as well as a rock star handled heroin.

Time slipped away and the world dissolved, only reappearing when he was forced to break away, oxygen now a perilous issue. She tried to kiss him again, his breath be damned, but he dug deep and resisted, leaving enough time for them both to come to their senses.

"No one makes up like we make up, Cam." He smiled against her forehead, his breathing deep and under control. "We should argue more often."

She shook her head against him. "I don't like it when we argue."

"Cam… arguing is normal. It's healthy. It's what people that love each other do." He tried to explain, wanting to rid this irrational fear from her once and for all. "Look at me and mom, we argue all the time but we still love each other. That'll never change.

"No matter what arguments or mistakes we make, I will _always_ love you," His fingers stroked down to her belly. "Both of you."

He sealed the promise with a gentle smile, cupping her cheek in his palm. She gave him her wily grin, the one that made him weak and they shared one last kiss before John clicked the handle to his door, swinging it open and moved to get out, high time they get down to business.

"It's a girl." She suddenly blurted, freezing him in the doorway.

John turned back to her slowly, dumbstruck as he searched her eyes for her meaning, not daring to hope.

"That's one less secret between us."

Her hand rested against her stomach and John was lost, slamming the door closed and flying back into her arms, loving her more that moment than he ever had before.

####

Within a darkened hallway of the Alistair Grand a pair of black combat boots crept along the commercial carpet, static tingling as the carbon barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun hung idly above them in Sarah Connor's skilful hands. A small flashlight lit her way as she gripped its rubber sleeve between her teeth, enough to navigating her way to Jesse's room.

After finding room 215 she had not broken stride, walking past and down the corridor where she'd grabbed a maid in a headlock and knocked her unconscious, stuffing the woman into a janitor's closet and stealing her universal key card. Inside the tiny cubicle she had reassembled the shotgun hidden beneath her coat, sinister metal and forged carbon clicking together crisply before she fed it florescent shells of angry red.

Within the closet she had found the electrical switchboard, clicking off a selected few to kill the corridor lights across this side of the floor, masking her stealthy approach.

"What's happened to the lights out here?"

Sarah froze at the sound of the voice, clicking off the flashlight and pressing flat against the wall.

About twenty yards the way she had came a doorway was wide open, the light inside illuminating the opposing wall in a shaft of yellow light. At its centre stood an eight year-old girl, her head a mat of pigtails as she gazed up and down the blackened hallway and squinting into the dark.

"Get back here this second, young lady. Leave it to the janitor." The child's mother called from within, allowing Sarah to exhale as the little girl obeyed and closed the door.

She paused for a moment to catch her breath, clicking the flashlight back on before pushing on down the hall.

She reached the door, the lights within a constant beam under the narrow crack at the bottom. She slipped the key card from her breast pocket, guiding it toward the mouth of the scanner just as the light beneath became broken with shadow.

Sarah froze, the plastic card poised at the ready.

The shadow formed two equal columns a few inches apart; a pair of legs, coming to a stop at the other side of the door. The pin-prick of light that shone through the peephole was blackened by interruption and Sarah held her breath.

For several seconds there was silence. No change at all. Then abruptly the shadows moved away, clearing the paths of light as the placid footsteps of the figure beyond the doorway recede back into the room.

She allowed herself to breath, hoisting her weapon carefully in a tiring arm before feeding the card as quietly as she could into the mouth of the scanner.

BANG!!

In a flash of splintering timber and buckshot the centre of the door was blown outward in a gapping hole, showering the hallway in flying shrapnel and a circle of natural light.

Sarah spun from the wall, kicking in the remains of the ruined door in a single, fluidic motion before bursting into the apartment.

In an instant she came face-to-face with her enemy as Jesse jacked another round into her shotgun.

In a blur of motion, Sarah aimed and pulled the trigger. The blast tore a leather chair to smithereens as the Resistance soldier dove into the bedroom, rolling to her feet before launching herself across the bed.

Jesse grimaced in pain as she landed on the floor, a ruby patch of blood smeared across the bed covers and carpet. She looked down to the wound on her thigh, the jeans and flesh torn open by a glancing blow.

A shotgun jacked and Jesse buried her head as the room was assailed with a deafening hailstorm of flying metal, the air above her filled with more lead than a Texan gun range as her attacker pumped round after round.

The weapon clicked empty and Jesse moved, roaring to her feet as Sarah spun for cover, firing two rounds into the sitting room.

Levelling the gun, Jesse pushed forward; ready to take the bitch down while she reloaded her weapon, show the amateur how you really get the drop before the spherical body of a frag grenade was suddenly tossed from behind the peppered wall, landing with a thud at her feet as the pin spun away and Jesse slung her weapon, diving backward toward the bathroom and slamming the door shut

The whole building rocked as the apartment was annihilated in a devastating explosion, plaster and mortar blasting about as the windows blew out onto the street.

Through the smoke and debris Sarah Connor swept her weapon, moving in for the kill as she blew what remained of the bathroom door from its ruined hinges and marched inside.

Jesse was nowhere to be found, the window smashed open by a hurled sink basin where Sarah caught sight of her, vanishing across the street below, beyond her range and out of reach after sliding down a length of kernmantle rope, anchored to the radiator and prepared in advance for this very purpose.

The echo of a fire alarm tore Sarah back to the hotel. Her time was up and she had to move.

"Damn."

* * *

_I get the sense from the show that John has a great desire to trust and believe in Cameron, but her lies keep dashing those hopes. It was nice to incorporate his fear of her lies into the story and let Cameron defend herself; there are a great many soldiers and government workers that have to keep secrets from their partners, even though they probably don't want to._

_Please read and review._


	8. Chapter 8

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 8  
****T.R. Samuels**

Bleached yellow gravel crunched beneath their feet as John and Cameron made their way up the Engineer's driveway, the palatial grounds gleaming in manicured green as the sound of water splashed into marble fountains. Beyond the entrance, the perimeter of the grounds was picketed by a tall fence and heavy vegetation, the intercom a crackling mess as Cameron had heaved open the rusty gate.

From the outside the mansion had its architecture in European darkness. Marble, clay, and granite. The makings of a stone fortress where the Engineer sat on a maniacal thrown. Oak framed doors and windows made eyes around the looming building as they approached the front door, its circular knocker clutched between the jaws of some fearsome beast, the iron hammer a scaled down battering ram.

Cameron reached out and banged it twice, the impact quivering the door as John steadied his nerve for the encounter that lay ahead.

"I nearly forgot… what's this guy's name?" She turned her head toward him. "I mean we can't just ask for 'the Engineer'."

There was a pause before she answered, her gaze casting off beyond his shoulder.

"His name is Daniel Phillips."

John frowned. "As in… _Cameron_ Phillips." His eyes widened as he considered the possibility. "Is this guy a…"

"Terminator?" She completed patiently. "No."

He stared at her for a long moment.

"It's just a coincidence, John."

Despite the discomfort of the earlier argument and her vow to the contrary, John was not too proud to admit that his first impulse was to assume it was a lie, the happenstance of the name having an improbable air of contrivance.

He shook himself and powered through it, breaking past the impulse of suspicion to the meadow of trust he had so recently championed, just in time for the door to swing open.

A middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, short and buxom, her body straining against a pallid uniform as she looked them up and down.

"May I help you?"

Cameron stepped forward. "We're here to speak to Mr Phillips."

"I'm sorry, but Mr Phillips doesn't accept visitors. Especially ones that are unannounced."

"Could you please relay a message to him?" The maid nodded. "Tell him that Cameron Phillips has brought the boss."

The woman frowned over the name, curiosity eating her as she turned to scrutinise John a little longer.

"Wait… here and I'll speak with him."

They loitered for several minutes as the maid disappeared into the house, Cameron busying herself with some internal monologue as John watched her with growing concern.

"Cam? Are you okay?"

Her eyes grew wide as she looked at him, uncertainty buried beneath the surface. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

In truth, she had wished things had not come to this, rueing the moment she had even mentioned the Engineer, but before she could respond the maid reappeared in the doorway, saving her from yet another lie.

"Mr Phillips has said that he will speak to you," She stepped back, beckoning them inside. "Please come in."

John and Cameron crossed the threshold, California falling away as the maid closed the heavy oak door behind them, the lobby of the mansion a palace of white marble and silver, the furniture ornate with expensive fittings. At the centre a dual staircase curved around in an oval, leading to a landing that branched off to either wings of the house, a giant crystal chandelier hanging in the centre and expensive art lined the walls.

"Whoa…" John exhaled as they were led through the domed hall, the room big enough to fit their house.

As the maid led them further, the extravagance of the lobby began to ebb away, the walls switching to the timber panels and oak beams of an English mansion. It had a certain old world charm to it, cosy and expensive, blessedly offset by the addition of air conditioning.

They approached a door and the maid knocked, pausing a moment before opening the door. When she did John was hit by a wall of ethereal oppression, the stale air inside that of an ancient tomb.

Slatted shades were drawn against the sun inside, the room dim and gloomy. Beyond the murk he could just make out the shape of an ancient man, small and hunched, seated next to an enormous desk. A gallows shape behind him was hard to make out; its form tall and rail thin, fixed with a swinging, glinting appendage. As they moved forward detail quickly emerged, almost giving John the fright of his life.

Whatever he had been ready for, whatever he had imagined; it hadn't quiet covered this.

The Engineer was old. _Very_ old. Last-survivor-of-the-Titanic old.

His face was pale and weatherworn, hair ash-white, his bones protruding beneath wrinkled flesh as he sat awkwardly beneath a tartan blanket in a motorised chair. Attached to the rear of his vehicle was a pole that hung an IV drip, its chord attached to the back of his wrist as oxygen pumped along a tube under his nose.

"Umm… Cameron Phillips." Despite his years, his eyes made an expert vertical scan of her entire body, a lascivious grin forming across his wizened jaw. "Nice to see _you_ again." His voice was an ancient rasp, tinged by a working-class accent he'd failed to shed, hoarse and dusty from age.

"Daniel."

Something in Cameron's voice was hollow, much like her laconic greeting.

The old man turned his attention to John, eyes narrowing to tiny beads as he tried to slide him into focus. "And who's this?" He asked, regarding the young man with pre-eminence. "'The Man' is it? Not quiet the hero yet, ay? Still a diamond in the rough. You can go now, Phyllis."

The maid nodded and made a hasty exit, closing the door behind her.

John stepped forward and offered his hand. "I'm John Connor," For some reason it felt good to say that. "It's a real honour to meet you. The way I see it, I owe you a lot."

The Engineer looked vaguely impressed, clasping him with his bony hand in a powerful shake, its skin roped with veins as he looked beyond John to where Cameron guarded the door. "Polite young fella, ain't he? Still a few nukes short of finding his niche, but I'm not complaining." He turned his eyes back to John. "The Connor of the future; he was so brusque and to-the-point, nothing like Verdi's Requiem."

John took a step back as the old man caught his breath, running a tongue over sandpaper lips.

"Well why don't you sit down, no point wasting chairs."

John looked about and found a nearby leather armchair, sliding down into the green material as the Engineer swivelled his chair to join him with a flick of his wrist.

"Aren't you gonna join us, Cammi?"

Cameron remained standing a few yards away, disinclined to approach any further and making no attempt to move.

"No."

The old man shrugged. "Suit yourself."

John looked between the two of them as the Engineer poured himself a drink from a decanter, ruby liquid sloshing a crystal glass. Clearly there was some history between these two, not all of it good. Then there was the shared name. A _pet_ name at that. What was that all about?

One glance at Cameron confirmed what he thought as he saw the tell-tale signs of her discomfort and something distasteful slithered into John's subconscious, putting ash in his mouth, his mind reeling in several unpleasant directions.

"So you came to the mountain to ask the wise man a question," He took a sip from his glass. "Oh, I'd offer you a drink, but you're not old enough to shave."

As the meeting unfolded John had soon gauged his host. Aggrandised and conceited, would respond well to compliments. All that he could live with; but the thought of Cameron jarred his focus.

"I want to talk to you about the future."

The man formed a wry smile. "No fate but what we make."

"Some things are left to fate. Some things just happen. You can't control everything."

"Yeah… but what if one day you could? Have all of humanity at your fingertips. Its present and its future; all resting on your decision." The Engineer looked at him coldly, humour vanishing from his face. "I'm sorry, did I stutter? Did you come here to dance, or are you going to ask me something real?"

John narrowed his eyes. He didn't like this guy.

"Why would Skynet make a terminator that can have children?"

For the first time the old man looked surprised, unprepared for what had been asked, a look of anger clouding him. Then the penny dropped, rational thought following a logical trail and he gave Cameron a sideways leer.

"Been busy have we?"

Cameron flinched and moved to speak before John beat her to it. "Hey, you're talking to me." His tone was low and serious, affability falling by the wayside.

"A little boy. Virginal and full of beans." The old man relaxed back in his chair. "She's too much for you anyway. She'd need a real man. Maybe Derek or Sayles. One of the idiots Connor sent back. Maybe that Kyle he was so fond of."

In a second Cameron began striding toward them.

"Cam, go and wait outside." John's command stalled her march and she stared down at him in disbelief. "Please."

For a moment, John thought she would not comply, her stance and body language never more ready to fight. She gave the Engineer a final glare, a loathing in her eyes impossible to hide beneath any layer of stoicism, then turned and headed out of the room.

"Call me!" The invalid called as the door swung shut behind her and he turned back to John. "Good thing you remembered the magic word."

Steel cooled in John's veins like ice. "At least now I know why I sent you back."

"Oh? Why's that?" He sounded already bored with the impending answer.

"Well, I can only speak for myself, but it was probably because I wouldn't want some broke-dick gimp slowing me down."

The Engineer's face fell to stone, irreverence turning sour as John smiled pleasantly at him.

"_Very_ amusing."

"I don't give a damn about your opinions and I'm pretty sure future-me didn't either," He reached into his pocket and pulled out a digital recorder, placing the device on the table beside them and aiming it at the Engineer.

"Now, I want you to tell me _everything_. Starting with the terminators. And if you give me any more crap, the first thing I'll do when I win the war is send an 800 back to erase your ass after you finish building the bank."

The Engineer stared at him for a long moment, breath wheezing through the tube. "Bullshit."

John's face spread into a vaguely satisfied smile.

"Did I stutter?"

####

Despite their jaded beginning and over three hours later, John had found his enthusiasm, the sound of a cash register pinging in his ear as the old man gave up a wealth of information; the beginnings of Skynet, the rise of the Resistance, even the evolution of the terminator models and how they had come to be. Every scrap of information he had ever wanted, handed to him on a plate; one made of silver and as big as a hubcap.

The Engineer explained theories and experiments, labs hidden under mountainous basins and the infinity of the quantum world, a catalogue of advanced technology that had yet to exist.

Eventually he got to the meat of the issue; the first time the Resistance encountered a machine that was so human it had passed through all their defences, past the guards and the metal detectors, even past the dogs that patrolled every entrance.

A _perfect_ copy of a human being. Emotion and vice. Even down to the ability to reproduce.

"We didn't know what to think," The old man explained. "This thing had just waltzed right in. Fooled everyone. Nearly blew your head off before we took it down."

"But why reproduction? That's what I don't understand. I can't believe Skynet would go to so much effort."

Mystery curled the Engineer's mouth, eager to decant his long kept secrets. "I thought about that for a while. Had some theories. But it didn't come to light until we found a base. Out in Wyoming in the mountains… I don't remember the name," He paused as he began to cough, drowning it with a sip of liquor. "I think it was where that colonel got his head scalped…"

"But _why_? What's the point? Skynet can manufacture as many terminators as it wants."

"Skynet was losing by this time. We were gaining ground and it was slowly becoming obvious that it couldn't win." He got a wry smile. "Funny, you'd think it would just lay down and die, like any computer, but it just got more desperate and futile."

He began a fit of coughs and John tried to help him, bracing the old man as his strength waned and he curled over in grimacing pain.

"You okay?"

"Dying. Cancer."

Despite things, John felt a pang of compassion; a weakness in his design. "I'm sorry."

After a few minutes of rest, the Engineer began again. "Skynet… had experimented on us for years. Learnt how our bodies worked and used biological weapons against us. But they were expensive in resources and too inefficient. We were always so hard to find.

"It came up with an idea to attack us through our children… make a hybrid race between humans and terminators and corrupt our genetics through each and every successive generation."

John frowned as he stroked his chin. "Sounds even more inefficient."

"No, that's just it… it was _perfect_. We'd never know. It would capture and replace members of the Resistance, put terminators in our midst that we wouldn't notice. Ones that wouldn't make any waves because they were programmed with the memories and personalities of the people they captured."

John thought about it, an insidious nightmare that only Skynet would dream. "You can't get caught if even you don't know you're a terminator."

"Exactly!"

"But we must have figured it out."

"Of course. Skynet was good, but it wasn't _that_ good. One of them screwed up."

"How?"

The old man smiled, pressing a handkerchief to his mouth. "More interestingly… _who_?"

As he looked at him with meaning the wheel spun in John's mind, piecing it together in a nanosecond. "_Cameron_."

The Engineer nodded.

"She was caught and that's when we found out what was going on. Eventually you got it out of her after locking yourself away. I don't know how you did it."

This was intense, the cosmic pieces clicking into place and leaving John in its wake. He felt exhausted as he checked his watch, shocked at how much time had passed. Cameron would start to get worried.

"One last thing and I'll leave you in peace."

"Thank God for that." For a moment the rasp of the uncouth fossil returned, but John ignored it, consumed with a growing fear that made him sick to his stomach with worry and concern, forcing the words out whilst terrified of the answer.

"Is our baby going to be alright? I mean… is there going to be something wrong with her if Skynet had a hand in her genetics?"

As the old man grinned sardonically John fought the urge to strangle him, feeling the impulse as he reigned down his emotions and willed the miserable bastard to talk. If there was something wrong with their child and nothing could be done, John knew it could all spell disaster.

Break him and Cameron apart, turn Sarah against them, prove once and for all that Derek was right and that everything was doomed from the beginning.

That was something John was certain he couldn't survive.

"I don't know exactly," The old man began. "We reengineered the terminators to remove the genetic anomalies. Leave only the best so they would harden the next generation against radiation and sickness."

"You mean… eventually everyone will be part human and part machine? Genetically engineer the entire human race?!"

He shrugged. "It was either that or extinction. You used to tell us that that wasn't an option."

John's shoulders collapsed, the weight of the world resting on them again, this time landing closer to home. "So there's no way to tell one way or the other if something will be wrong with my daughter."

"Even if there were it wouldn't be obvious in a first generation offspring. Only after a series of successive generations would deformities and mutations become apparent, and at least your daughter won't be having children with a terminator." He beamed in a triumph of irreverence, eyes rolling with a final thought. "_Hopefully…_"

John could not take anymore and perhaps it was enough, clicking off the recorder as it approached the limit of its memory. What he had gotten was a lot, brightening the road ahead a lot further and a new confidence for the world began to flourish in its light, leaving him with the numb agony that perhaps the final victim of the Skynet would be his unborn child.

"Well… thanks for everything." He stood up from the table, feeling the blood run back into his legs. "I'll see you around Daniel."

John turned to leave and headed for the door, wanting nothing more now than to get away.

"One last thing…" The old man called after him and he paused through the doorway. "When it's born and the nurse calls you over and hands you the scissors, don't forget;" He grinned callously, teeth a crooked smile. "Cut the blue wire!"

He burst into an inane and wicked cackle, eyes watering as he watched the words tear John apart, the teenager shaking with anger and despair as he glimpsed the wretchedness of the human race corralled into a single individual; the face of it bitter and twisted, bankrupt with cheep thrills and heartlessness that dwelt in a castle of barren avarice.

John turned and walked out, slamming the door shut as the emotion rose inside him, threatening to burst out. It took him forever to pull himself together and head outside, splashing water on his face in a washroom to hide any tears, not wanting to bring any of it with him to Cameron.

_Bastard._ John hoped he choked to death in that tomb of his.

He made his way out and back down the drive, finding Cameron in the passenger seat of the Cherokee staring off into oblivion. She didn't want to come here and he was beginning to wish they hadn't, the information on Skynet all that made it worthwhile and philanthropic.

"You alright?" He asked her after climbing inside, seeing the despondence in her eyes that only he could measure.

"I'm fine." Her voice was tiny, tinged with regret. "I'm just sorry you had to meet him. He was a necessary evil and he helped us to win."

John reached out and took her hand, rubbing it gently and moved close to her. "At least we got some useful information. That's got to count for something."

She looked at him sadly, wanting to tell him a thousand things, lay it all down for him to judge and decide, but the soldier in her held her back. The nightmare world of the future yawned at her heels, the further she travelled from it the closer it got.

"It's okay, Cam. You don't have to tell me anything." His hand stroked her face, smoothing her cheek in his palm and she fell into his touch.

"Did he say anything… about me?"

There was something else out there, John could sense it. Some secret that had lay long buried and forgotten. He felt sick at what it might be as he remembered how the Engineer had spoke to her.

"Nothing that bothered me."

Hope blossomed in her eyes and he could feel her relief. "Are you sure...?" Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled over her next few words. "I… don't want you to lose… because of me."

John slid closer to her and kissed her on the mouth, emerald eyes never bigger or more earnest in his life. "I'd rather lose because of you, than win because of him."

Cameron melted into him, their arms wrapping around one another as they sat together in silence for many minutes. Neither saying a word and neither needing to.

####

The cops had shown up, as they always did, surrounding the Alistair Grand in a seething cauldron of organised chaos. Flashing lights of blue and red put the street on an acid trip as black-and-whites came and went amidst a host of fire engines and ambulances. Smoke still billowed out of the side of the building but there were no fires, the hotel a concrete tenement of sturdy, old world construction and state-of-the-art building codes.

Police were everywhere, questioning witnesses and taking statements as teams of fire-fighters breezed in and out. The concierge was having a neurotic conniption on the sidewalk as he catalogued his litany of petty complaints to an impatient detective before finally getting slapped in handcuffs, his precious lobby carpet looking like something a builder would leave behind.

Sarah Connor's mouth curled, her body lounging in the front seat of the Jeep Liberty, taking a leisured hit from the straw of her 7-Up and picked the remains of a cheeseburger from her teeth, watching the aftermath unfold.

She loved a good train wreck.

It had been over three hours and was now pushing into late afternoon, sunlight arcing low over the ocean. Derek should have been back by now but there was still no sign, the needle on the radio receiver remaining buried at zero.

As she began crushing ice between her molars the dulcet tones of her obsolete phone began vibrating in her pocket, the device an analogue affair she had found stuffed in the kitchen draw of discarded miscellanea. Fishing the dreary replacement from her pocket she glanced at the tiny screen, straightening in her seat as she saw the caller ID.

Gingerly she flicked its clamshell open, placing it to her ear where the off-key monotone confirmed the identity of the caller.

Her eyebrows arched high as she began to listen. This was going to be interesting.

####

Dusk had fallen as the old Jeep Cherokee rolled back onto the Connor's empty driveway, the lights of LA flickering against the approaching twilight. As the car stopped Cameron went to get out.

"Hey…" John called her back in. "I love you, you know that?"

Her teeth stayed hidden beneath a narrow smile. "I know that," She placed her hand on his cheek and guided him in, kissing him in feather touches. "I love you too."

"Well good, because I can't help but notice that mom isn't back yet…"

Her smile began to deepen. "Why is that so noteworthy, John?"

He rolled his eyes; she knew very well what he meant. "It means that we have the house to ourselves, and you can make as much noise as you want."

Warmth began spreading inside her as she watched his pupils grow, looking within her and seducing her soul in the way that corrupted her motor skills. "As much noise as _I_ want?"

"Yeah, _you_. You're really noisy when you get going," He sniggered, fingers stroking her hair. "Mom's probably scarred for life already."

Cameron slapped him lightly on the arm and did her best to look outraged, making him laugh and look more handsome by the second.

She loved it when they played.

"Let's go upstairs then." Her voice was a husky purr, promising him a night to heaven and back as they stepped out of the car and hurryied to the house.

"For starters…"

John wondered if all couples were like this, down one second then up the next, or was it just him and Cameron? From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he'd wanted her, even after learning she was a machine. If anything he had wanted her more, the audacity a forbidden fruit that he yearned for, magnified a dozen fold as slowly but surely he fell head over heels.

He fumbled with his keys as they reached the front door, trying to multitask as she kissed his neck and slid up against him, hoping that Kacy wasn't watching as Cameron kissed him fully, her tongue in his mouth as she slipped her hand around his and guided him in.

"Just think about me." She whispered in his ear and the key slid home with a satisfying thud.

In that moment he felt a little sad, imagining all the other John Connors in all the other timelines, wondering if there were any left by now that still held out some foolish resistance against Cameron Phillips, the one that made him want to fall to his knees and thank God he was born.

The door swung open and she pulled him inside, laughing as he tripped on the doorframe and she had to right his balance, leading him by the hand as they crossed into the threshold and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Catch you freaks at a bad time?"

Jesse leered at them from the centre of the room before raising her weapon and pulling the trigger.

* * *

_I fell in love with the idea that the Engineer, the potential sum of all wisdom, might actually be a total a**hole. Made him much more interesting to write._

_Hope you like how the story is progressing and where it has been. I'm a little concerned that my style isn't a hit with everyone._

_Please read and review. The more the merrier._


	9. Chapter 9

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Chapter 9  
****T.R. Samuels**

The hollow echo of the gunshot boomed outward through the house, the sulphur and potassium flash like a bolt of summer thunder or the crack of a whip, tearing through Cameron's flesh and John Connor's soul. As he stared down the barrel of the smoking gun time slowed down to an agonising crawl, the bullet a singularity that altered space and time, tearing into her stomach and shattering his existence as the world he had created was torn apart.

"Cam?! CAM?!" He wrapped his arms around her as she stumbled back, lifting her hand from her abdomen, the palm bloodied and red, her face rigid with catatonic terror. John fumbled to hold her as his hands began to shake, panic dying to a harried despair as he felt the life he and Cameron had created slipping away.

When she spoke her voice was a petrified whisper, fear gripping her soul in jagged talons.

"_John…_"

From the centre of the room smoke plumed from the barrel of Jesse's gun, her damaged leg bandaged in an impromptu tunicate soaked with dry blood. Her mouth was a sickening sneer, watching with vile satisfaction as Cameron stumbled backward into John.

"Bye-bye, baby."

Somewhere deep down, at the bottom of his soul, the last fibres of John's humanity snapped. The world around him opened up so that nothing felt real, everything happening far away, fear and morality melting in an instant as the jagged eyes of an inhuman monster snapped open in the depths of his mind.

He shoved Cameron aside and lunged at Jesse, flinging himself in a suicidal charge. He crashed into her full force, lifting her off her feet, kicking over furniture as he went before smashing her body into the bookshelf. A stray shot from the gun fired wide from the impact, obliterating the shade of a ceramic lamp as the two combatants collapsed into a heap of splintered timber and torn books.

"RUN!!"

Cameron stood motionless, too stunned to move, rooted in the doorway like a statue.

Jesse clawed at John's face as they struggled for the gun, its barrel waving in all directions.

"Cam, get out!! NOW!!"

A second gunshot rung out, turning the pillow of the couch into a plume of feathers and snapping Cameron from her trance.

Her processes unlocked for the fraction of a second long enough for her quantum network to act, raw facts and statistics crunched in an instant to the inevitable calculation. Every protocol and programming commanded her to intercede, fling herself into the centre of the fray and bear the contents of an entire magazine to protect John Connor, her existence meaningless and a cheep expense.

Her eyes met his for the briefest instant; a spark of clarity exploding in her mind before Cameron turned and bolted out the door, slamming it behind her and leaving John to his fate.

Jesse wailed as he drove his fist into her wounded leg, smacking him across the face and drawing blood from his stitching as they wrestled across to the rug, the fight a vicious and undignified mêlée fuelled by the furnace of mutual hate.

The gun clattered away across the timber floor, chemical explosions giving way to wet and blunt impacts, the combatants drooling saliva and blood as John punched harder and faster and gained the upper hand.

Glass shattered, furniture broke, turning the living room into a war zone before Jesse suddenly struggled out of his grip, John's hand slipping from her arm through bloodied palms and she scrambled away across the floor.

Grasping her hands around the gun, Jesse swung around and levelled it at his head as he loomed over her with the heavy iron stoker from the fireplace, ready to swing it with all his strength and bury it into her head.

"DROP IT!!"

John froze mid swing, fury boiling as he breathed hard and deep, eyes feral as Jesse scuffled to her feet.

"Drop it now!"

His eyes blazed into her, wild with murderous intent before the ersatz weapon fell from his fingers and clattered nosily on the floor.

"I'm going kill you! I'm going _fucking_ kill you, you bitch!"

Jesse huffed past bloodied teeth. "Shame you didn't show that kind of passion when it mattered," She spat cherry saliva on the floor in disgust. "I should've known the only way you'd show any feeling is when one of your precious machines was broken, you bastard traitor!"

She marched forward and shoved him in the shoulder, the cold barrel of the berretta looming in his face as she pushed him backward to the centre of the room, driving a boot into his calf and putting down on his knees.

John grimaced as the muscle tore and she forced his hands on his head.

"You're from the future."

"Good call." She threw over her shoulder as she strode to the window by the front door, clicking on the lock. "Listen up metal! If you want Connor to live you better come in with your hands above your head! You've got two minutes!"

"She's not coming in."

"She will if she wants you alive. She has to. It's what they're _programmed_ to do." The words tore angrily from her mouth as she moved back toward him. "I guess you find it difficult to remember what they are."

John stared up at her in exasperation, serenity tinting his eyes, settling his weight against his ankles like a condemned man waiting for execution; a morbid smile forming across his face in the cold and frivolous certainty of a man with nothing left to lose.

"Is this the way it's always going to be? Just you verses the world and the machine? When are you going to get with the program, _Jesse_?"

The angry retort died on her tongue, impotent as his words swept over her with dizzying effect, feeling like the cartoon coyote after the ground had disappeared beneath its feet. Cold sunk through her as she stared at him through widening eyes, the paranoid feeling growing inside her of trickery and deception she had only felt once before; the last time she had dealings with Connor.

"How do you know my name?"

She was rattled and he knew how and why, the digital recorder sliding in the pocket beneath his coat. "It doesn't matter… _I know_."

"What do you think you know?"

"I know you and Derek were together in the future. Probably are now," He leaned back she began to squirm, weight shifting on uneven legs as she held him at gunpoint. "I know I sent your battalion on a suicide mission, got all your buddies killed and you were the only one to come back."

"_Shut up!_ Don't talk about them! You never get to say that!"

Tears welled up, hands shaking as her finger tightened over the trigger, an evil bullet lodged in its dark nest.

"I get it, you're angry. You want revenge. I understand that. But _you_ have to understand something too… it _had_ to be done."

The thought of Cameron bleeding outside put John into a crazy mood, wanting nothing more than to get this over with as a calm and confidence welled from an untapped resource that dwelt deep within, the words of General Connor flowing effortlessly out of his mouth.

"The HELL it did!!" She wailed, voice cracking in sadness before she shoved the gun right in his face. "We fought for you! Did anything you asked! Then you sent us all out to die just to hide your little secret!"

As much as he hated and despised, as much as he wanted to kill her, the burden of guilt and responsibility encumbered the better angels of his nature. The cross he seemed destined to bear. What seed of compassion and accountability he could still feel sprouted up through the hate like an unwanted weed; thorny and hard to eradicate.

"I won't defend myself over something I haven't yet done, and I wont speak for future-me," He spoke firmly but from the heart. "I know he had his reasons."

"Bastard! What reason is there to kill innocent people?!"

"I don't know!" His voice broke as he thought of Cameron's stomach. "You tell me!"

"She's NOT a person and neither was that _thing_ inside her!" All her bile erupted out, a sum of the rage a hate, screaming at him in a death knell. "It's _sick_ and it's _perverted_! It can't be allowed to exist!"

John didn't reply, struggling with a growing madness that threatened to derail him, robbing the air from his lungs.

He was going to kill this bitch. He was never more certain of anything. Get her so mad she couldn't think straight. Get the gun away from her somehow and move in for the kill; wrap his hands around her neck and choke the life from her. A paternal vengeance justifiable on any moral scales.

"Look at yourself! JUST LOOK!" She shoved the gun against his temple, grabbing by the collar and yanking him to his feet, thrusting him before the patio door where his ghostly reflection staring back at him in the glass. "What happened to you?! You even care more about _them_ than yourself! How could _you,_ of all people?!"

The response cut off in John's throat as he caught sight of something in the reflection, past his shoulder and out onto the driveway, salvation less than a minute away.

"Yeah that's right, Jesse. _I'm_ the traitor," A grin formed behind his broken lips as he turned around to face her. "I _love_ the machines. I can't get enough of them." The words dripped sarcasm as he twisted the knife, keeping her focussed on nothing but him. "And Cameron? I can't get enough of _her_. She's all I think about, day and night."

Jesse's eyes blazed into him, eyes flinty and unyielding, the thing before her less than human.

"I'll bet…"

"I used to wonder why kissing Riley was so dull and boring. It was because she wasn't enough for me." He talked straight over her, rolling with it, all the forbidden things that had dwelt inside him liberating off his tongue in blessed release.

"I needed a _real_ woman, one that can handle a 12-gauge, not some little girl that freaks out over everything." The expression on her face was priceless, making him laugh. "The first time I kissed Cameron was like getting struck by lightening, I thought she was going to blow my head off!"

Jesse clicked back the hammer on her gun. "There's more ways than one to blow a man's head off."

"You're not kidding, how could I forget about the _sex_?!" He laughed openly in her face, buying every last grain of sand for his hourglass. "You can't begin to imagine what it's like with a terminator unless you actually try it!" He exhaled a whistle. "I mean… between you and me… she can do things that'd make _Clinton_ blush!"

Jesse glared through his levity, rage finally coming to boil, his voice an intolerable water torture that she could no longer abide, and still he kept nailing the coffin.

"Fantastic sex! _Apocalyptic_ sex!" He leaned forward, right in her space, the look on his face more genuine than ever. "Truth be told… I'm gonna make a _hundred_ babies with her!"

"I SAID SHUT THE FU…!"

The front door of the house burst open in shotgun blast of shredded timber, the handle blown clear out as Derek and Sarah stormed into the living room, the latter wielding a carbonized 12-gauge that had blown the door from its frame, dangling limply on the remnants of a twisted hinge.

Sarah jacked another round into the angry weapon, the empty shell casing springing free as Jesse swung behind John, using him as human shield as she thrust her gun under his chin.

"It's over Jess!" Derek stepped forward, hand raised in diplomacy as Sarah glared down her sights, just waiting for a single mistake. "Put it down!"

Jesse's eyes flitted between them, glistening pools filled with treachery and disbelief.

"_Derek_…" Her voice was small as she peaked out past her hostage, rigid in her arms as the barrel burnt against his skin.

"I mean it Jess! Drop the gun!"

"What are you doing?!"

The look on Derek's face was the wide-eyed dismay of a man caught with another woman; guilt and desperation mollifying any attempt at smooth resistance as he tried to defuse the situation like a nuclear bomb.

"What I should have done from the start." He stepped toward her. "I'm sorry Jess, but you're not thinking straight."

She thrust her gun hard into John. "One more step and I'll blow his head off!"

"Hurt my boy, and it'll be the last thing you ever do!"

Derek darted a look at Sarah, raising his hand in a futile effort to block her shot. "No one's killing anybody!"

"Stay back! I'll kill him! I swear to God!"

Dread gripped Derek's heart like a crippling vice, feeling it all teeter at the edge, squeezing the life from him as he felt Jesse slipping from his grasp, the woman to his right a vengeful angel that at any second would cast him aside.

"Jess…" His voice was a gravely murmur, lungs failing him as he pleaded her with his eyes. "If you kill him… then we're dead. We are _ALL_ dead!"

The desperate soldier renewed her hold around John, anger deepening as she came to terms with Derek's betrayal, struggling to close her heart against him and embrace the bitter truth of reality. But somewhere beneath the wrath the vestigial ounce of decency that still remained gnawed at her and dared to hope.

"We're all dead anyway, Derek." She nodded toward Sarah. "And I don't think she'll just let me walk away."

Sarah inched forward before Derek stepped past her. "We can go away."

Her brow scrunched as John swallowed his fear, frozen in place as Derek took his life in his hands.

"We can go far away from here… start a life somewhere else. We don't ever have to look back."

The moment he said it, Jesse felt the ambers of flickering hope, a way out that she had always wanted.

"Jess… _baby_… _I love you_," His voice broke as he lay down the last card he had. "If you do this, I'm gonna lose you!"

Hope sprung inside her into a life sustaining blaze, smiling at him as she began to cry, her head nodding of its own accord. She thought of taking Derek away, to the mountains or some distant shore, white sand in all directions and water as clear as glass. Somewhere far away that had no memory.

Her hand loosened around John and she lowered the gun, moving from behind him with every intension in her soul to take Derek in her arms and never let go.

"I love…"

The deafening roar of a gunshot tore through the air, lifting the hair around John Connor's ear before it hit Jesse square in the head.

The gun fell from her hand and clattered on the floor, her body collapsing with in an undignified heap, sprawling onto the floor right behind it before ushering in a deafening silence.

Sarah stood stunned, the shotgun drooping in her arms as the smoking barrel of Derek's berretta lowered downward to his side, his eyes dazzled ovals that stayed rigid and glazed as he turned away and staggered off toward the kitchen.

Sarah hurried to John, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek, crushing her son against her as the terror drained from her soul.

For a while John stood motionless, arms lying limp at his sides as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

"John!" His mother called, taking his face in her hands and staring into his eyes. "John! Can you hear me?!"

He stared back like a man with concussion, dizzy and confused, the world around him a distant echo that without warning suddenly snapped back into focus.

"Cameron!" He pulled out of her grip and rushed to the door, bursting outside onto the front porch where his lover sat silently on the step.

John felt his world fall down, her solitary form a devastating portent for the worst of all his nightmares.

He stepped toward her slowly, hands shaking as his eyes brimmed with the imminent torrent of immeasurable grief.

"Cam…?"

She didn't respond and his fear grew as he carefully moved around in front of her, treating her like a motion sensor as he descended the steps as though they were a minefield.

As he looked into her eyes there was a flicker of recognition, her blank expression turning to him and confirming the hateful inevitable.

"It's alright, John. It's alright," She reached up to stroke his cheek and John died inside, his whole world ripped apart in matter of minutes.

"The bullet impacted against my second abdominal plate, lodging two-point-one centimetres from my perimetrium."

He sat stupefied before her, shaking his head with incomprehension, at the ragged edge of bursting into tears until, like the rising sun, Cameron's face spread wide with her perfect smile.

"The baby's going to be _fine_."

In the breadth of a single second John's soul burst from the depths of despair and out into the stratosphere, choking him up as a crippling relief spread through him. His knees buckled and he fell forward into her embrace, pushing her backward on the floor of the porch where his awkward frame gathered next to her, arms clinging desperately as he clenched his teeth.

"I'm sorry I seemed preoccupied. I had to manually divert cellular regeneration to…"

She was silenced by his mouth, kissing her in a long and drawn out caress that infused her with every grain of love and adoration he had, weakening her with its intensity before it descended into fleeting pecks that he dappled all over her face, cradling her belly with the palm of his hand like the most fragile and precious artefact man had ever known to exist.

"I failed you," She suddenly spoke, sounding meek and despondent as she struggled up to her feet. "I'm sorry, John."

He held onto her tightly, forcing her back down next to him on the step. "What are you talking about?"

"She could have killed you and I left you behind. I shouldn't have done that."

John shook his head, cheeks lined with tears. "You did the right thing," He took her hands in his own and brought them to his mouth, kissing each knuckle individually. "You were protecting something much more important."

"I can't protect you anymore. Not like this."

Cameron looked ready to tear herself apart, turmoil and ambivalence pulling her in every direction as tears began to roll down her cheeks, her face a contrasting mask as she frowned in thrifty confusion.

"I'm alright. Everything's alright and we're alive. That's all that matters."

"But it's my mission to protect you!" She closed her eyes and shook her head, wrestling with a thousand conflicts. "I _abandoned_ you! I left you behind!"

John got down on his knees, moving in front of her to take her face in his hands as she struggled for simulated breath, looking as though she were in the midst of a panic attack.

He'd never seen her so upset.

"You did the right thing, Cam." He reassured. "It's what parent's do. They put themselves and each other aside for their children." He smiled into her as she stared back, body calming in his strong and confident embrace. "What you did was normal. It was natural.

"You're more _human_ than you think."

The conflict inside her began to lessen and ease, reassured by John's certainty as she shut down the programs that had crashed, emotion and programming like oil and water.

After a few minutes she began to process normally again, holding off more conflicts with the certainty and unquestionable truth that John was always right about such things. His heart was big enough for the world and all that dwelt within, but when the time had come to use it, he'd given it to her.

A proud smile began curling her lips, remembering how he had dived into danger.

"You're more terminator than _you_ think."

John threaded his arms around her and lifted them both to their feet, smiling and kissing her before he whispered close to her ear.

"I told you I'd protect you."

####

The dying rays of amber sunlight arced low across the Los Angeles skyline, the golden disc of the setting sun dipping slowly over the horizon as the day embraced twilight. The air was filled with the sweet smell of summer; freshly mowed lawns and the distant hint of barbecue, the cavernous echo of the city as its lights began flickering on and the sound of children playing.

If this wasn't heaven, Derek didn't know what was.

The weary soldier sat on the back steps of the patio, gazing out across the garden and the azure vista beyond, his expression one of serene meditation as he pondered life, the cosmos, and the meaning of existence, pausing only to lift his beer. The frothy beverage bubbled as he took a long and leisurely swig, the amber liquid cool and crisp as it washed the craggy dust from his throat.

"She had this thing about sunshine," He muttered as the shroud of a feminine shadow looming next to him. "I guess because she missed it so much."

Sarah Connor sunk down beside him on the step, sharing the view as they spent several moments in companionable silence.

"Are you okay?"

His mouth curled in a sad smile before he shook his head. "Not really."

Silence began again as she struggled for the right words, not certain how to describe it. She had never released just how ruthless he could be, the cool precision of it echoing the stark indignation of a protective father.

She was never more surprised when he had called her outside the Alistair Grand, confessing everything she already knew before meeting her a few blocks away; pledging his loyalty again before she'd almost broken his nose.

"Derek… what you did… well it was _unbelievable_."

Shame sprung inside him, feeling the weight of his brother's ghost looking down on him. "I know. I'm sorry. I should never have hit John. It was unacceptable."

"Yes, it was." Sarah's anger simmered but there was something else there too, a grudging sense of leniency that tempered what once burnt as fury. "But I was talking about how you killed your girlfriend."

The beer lowered from Derek's mouth before it reached it, caught flat footed as the memory jolted through his brain.

"Right…"

"She was backing down, y'know." She turned her head toward him. "You could have been happy."

"No we wouldn't," He placed the bottle down between his feet on the lower step. "I knew her too well… she'd never have let it go."

His mind filled with memories of the good old days; him and Jesse out under the stars, playing catch with his brother, a hundred other things that would never come again. Not in this life anyway.

"Did you love her?"

He wrapped his hands around his frayed nerves, fortified by the beer, turning to face John's mother, his brother's lover, the guardian of the future whose wrath he had incurred.

"I loved _a_ Jesse… _once_… a long time ago. She was different then." He felt microscopic under her silent judgment

"_Yes_… I loved her."

Putting his heart on his sleeve felt like a stroll into no-man's-land, just waiting for his head to be blown off or to trigger a mine. The cruel fact of emotion being just that, you could have your heart torn out a thousand times and still carry on, but every time you did you lost something, a piece of your soul you could never go back for.

"I'll never be his father, but I promise," He looked straight in her eyes, the emerald orbs looking right down into him. "I'll _never_ let anything ever happen to John… no matter the cost."

Sarah stared at him for a long and pensive moment, deciding his fate from the topmost step like an emperor of a coliseum or dour-faced burgomeister.

"You need to go," She finally decreed. "Away from here. Away from John. At least for a while."

He nodded, feeling like he'd gotten off lightly. "I know."

"John will forgive you."

He couldn't suppress a gloomy smile. "I've still got to deal with Cameron. If she wants me dead, I'm dead."

"Machines don't do revenge… maybe that makes them a little better than us." Sarah surprised herself, smiling at the feeling that came with it, the words of a techno-sympathizer so alien as they rolled off her tongue. "Does it make me a traitor for saying that? Or even thinking it?"

The question was rhetorical, but Derek felt compelled to dig deeper. "No." He glanced upward to the window of John's bedroom as shadows moved about. "Perhaps we're as bad as each other for different reasons."

Following his gaze Sarah tried to rid herself of the mind-bending implications of her son and the machine, the two probably cavorting already.

"I still can't believe they're having a baby. They're just kids and it feels… _weird_."

As she spoke, something equally strange happened in Derek, a clarity of perception that defied his character and beliefs, paving the way for him to be aberrantly profound.

"Maybe it's for the best," He paused with incidental effect. "Maybe this way… man and machine can find a way to forgive one another."

She was surprised, daring to press. "For what?"

Derek stared at her long and hard, the unthinkable words almost dying before he finally delved deep and breathed them out.

"Being alive."

Whatever she thought he would have said, she wasn't quiet ready for that, flabbergasting her for well over a minute as the archetype that defined Derek Reese received brisk field promotion.

"You…" She got to her feet, looking down at him in startled revelation as a smile graced her lips. "Are not what I thought you were, Derek Reese."

He got up as well, standing before her and looking down, feeling as embarrassed as content. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's good," She smirked up at him before saying what she needed to say. "Thank you for coming back."

Emerald eyes mirrored back in one another in an infinite regress, forbidden fire burning in both, feeling the hand of fate wrap around them before Derek, feeling bold and nervous, leaned in and kissed her, pressing his mouth to hers and pulling her to him in a firm embrace.

Sarah went rigid in his powerful hands, his mouth and audacity stunning her silent before her brain finally caught on, realising what was happening with a livid flash of anger before promptly shutting down. Desire took over and she melted against him, crossing her arms behind his head as she surrendered to his touch.

When they broke apart Derek felt ecstatic, blown away by her touch before his eyes fell upon her furious gaze.

In a lightening strike, Sarah slapped him across the face, the nerves of his cheek exploding in searing pain.

_That's it. I'm a dead man._

Sarah looked like she had just shot a dog, shaking with adrenaline and something else, colour bursting out in her cheeks as her whole body burnt bright red and turned her legs to jelly.

She hadn't been kissed like that since…

"You need to go."

Derek nodded vehemently, never more surprised or terrified.

"Goodnight."

Without another word he made tracks down the steps, leaving Sarah with her hand over her mouth, heart thumping as though it would leap out of her chest, watching as Derek jumped into the truck and pulled away into the night.

Dazed and confused, Sarah stumbled into the house, propping the small of her back against the dull rim of the kitchen worktop, her hand staying glued to her mouth. She almost jumped out of her skin when John appeared in the doorway.

"Hey," He greeted lightly, heading straight for the refrigerator. "Derek gone?"

"_Nothing!_" The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, her voice a strangled squawk, kicking herself as she heard the way it sounded.

John glanced at her sideways as he carried a handful of yoghurts and placed them on the table. "Oh…kay."

"Who are all those for?" She nodded toward the assortment of dairy products, deftly changing the subject.

"Cameron likes them. We're pretty sure she needs to eat now," His cheeks began colouring. "Since she's… _y'know_."

He would be the future leader of humanity and the nemesis of Skynet, but still John Connor cringed at the thought of talking about sex when she was around.

Sarah pursed her lips, biting her cheek as she listened to his discomfort, his last word delivered in an inaudible whisper and she felt the jovial lure of spontaneous mischief.

"So…" She looked him squarely in the eye, crossing her arms over her chest. "A _hundred_ babies, huh?"

John's face fell and he fumbled for words, his eyes broadening in the dazed expression of a startled deer. She'd heard that?! His cheeks burning red as his mouth opened and closed in mute interjection.

"Well… I had to say that to… to keep her distracted…"

She gave him a sceptical look, eyebrows lifting up her forehead.

"Mom… _seriously!_"

"Don't worry… we'll have a long and uncomfortable talk about it in the morning with Cameron right beside you," She assured, the promise a dark omen of things to come. "Specifically about condoms, stupidity, and pre-natal responsibilities."

John felt a shiver of dread sink through him, the thought of sitting between Sarah and Cameron as they discussed his sex life imbuing him with the enthusiasm of a man refusing Mike Tyson an overdraft.

"Umm… see you in the morning then." Without another word he collected the yoghurts and was on his way.

"Hey!"

John turned around in the doorway and she smiled at him, walking forward to rest her hands on his shoulders.

"You're going to be a great dad," She promised, brushing his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Just like your father would have been."

John's face split into a relieved and prideful grin, arms circling her in an awkward hug, her confidence and acceptance all the assurance he would need on the rocky road ahead.

* * *

_To be concluded…_

_Hope you like it. Please read and review._


	10. Epilogue

**NOTES**: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This chapter takes place around "To The Lighthouse", but it's hard to keep track of time on the show.

**SUMMARY**: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.

* * *

"**Fuzzy Dice"  
****Epilogue  
****T.R. Samuels**

Two delicate fingers lifted a black stone through the air, twiddling it slowly in their grasp before descending to the game board, boxing the formation of white opponents with a gratifying click before hoisting them off into oblivion. The pale stones dropped with an agreeable clink before Cameron Phillips reached for the giant bag of potato chips.

"Your move." She smiled with impending triumph, satisfied as she glanced across at her opponent and slid a cheesy Dorito into her mouth.

John Connor stared at her and shook his head, his mind a million miles from the game. He had watched her contemplate, hovering over the board and making eyes of bright white, twitching her head like a sparrow as she had gnawed her teeth in thought.

"What?" She frowned, her hand a looped conveyance to her mouth.

He looked down to the edge of the table and the swollen mound of her belly, shaking his head again with amusement.

"Nothing."

Since becoming pregnant, Cameron had gone food-crazy, the vast arena of human cuisine becoming the new outlet for her blossoming sapience as they made a new life for themselves over the past few months in the secluded oasis of the lighthouse; a safe house his mother had established on the secluded coast of Northern California.

John had argued with her at first, almost coming to blows, but the logic and appropriateness of the plan eventually won out. The incident with Jesse driving it home better than anything, Cameron's condition making it impossible to continue as they had before and after two weeks of restless feet, he had finally settled into their new tranquil existence.

No more missions. No more gun fights. Only the occasional phone call or email to supply any technical help.

It had not all been peaches and cream though; forcing Cameron to encounter facets of human civilisation she had never considered to exist, learning with tangible experience in the nearby town's ice-cream parlour that 'all-you-can-eat' was a cruel and scandalous misnomer.

Within the seductive clutches of the restaurant industry there had been even more peril, leading to an inevitable confrontation in a bar and grill; a rustic establishment whose regular patrons believed that Mountain Dew improved with age and that Deliverance was a documentary.

To this day, Doug McGee, a gruff and unwashed trucker whom had yet to discover soap, rue the day Cameron Phillips had breezed through the door of the Buffalo Grill and usurped his steak eating title.

John couldn't figure where she put it all, all but her stomach retaining its lithe suppleness as she danced for him in their room only this morning. Serene and angelic. Her balance perfection as she had pivoted to the haunting melody of Chopin's Nocturne.

Her _other_ appetites had grown too, wearing him to the point of exhaustion as he tried to keep up with her demands, etching a permanent grin on his face just by thinking about it.

He reached out to the board and made his move, placing a pallid stone on an innocuous point and sat back in his chair, watching as her eyes narrowed at him with suspicion.

"What?"

"You're deceiving me."

His hands pointed inward to his chest in mock humility. "_Moi_? _Deceiving?_"

"Yes, and I'm going to discover how."

She had observed this behaviour before, leading her down the path on several occasions by lulling her into the false belief that he was losing, only to trounce her utterly in few simple moves that revealed some hitherto clandestine strategy.

John was cunning like that.

"You may surrender now if you wish. I will be magnanimous."

No she wouldn't, she'd be insufferable, and his winning streak would come to an end.

After months of playing chess without a single victory, Cameron had suggested Go, an ancient game from the Far East that she was certain he had yet to master, its moves and outcomes far exceeding the magnitude of the human psyche, a place that the quantum network of her CPU would reign supreme.

John smiled faintly, stoic in his confidence.

"It ain't over til it's over, Cam."

Returning her attention to the game, Cameron made a move, plucking another stone between her fore and middle finger like a pair of cooking tongs before placing it down on the board.

"Y'know… we _could_ make this more interesting." John curled his fingers in the collection bowl, scooping out a stone in preparation.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged nonchalant. "Well… _for instance_… if through some unlikely event _I_ were to win the game, you'd maybe do something for me?"

Cameron seemed to give it some genuine consideration, eyes rolling in thought, the subtle implication lost on her.

"If you need me to do something John, I'll do it."

He felt a little touched, knowing she meant every word. "Thanks, Cam. But it's not something I _need_ exactly. Besides, it's more fun this way."

"Alright…" She agreed cautiously. "What do you want?"

"Just to play a little game."

"We're playing a game now."

"A _different_ type of game…" He purred with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Cameron required only a nano-second to comprehend, his implication neither subtle nor lost.

"What do you have in mind?"

He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table as he explained what he wanted. As his description grew so did Cameron's eagerness, the idea something they hadn't tried yet and it made her weak at the knees.

"What if I win?"

He shrugged. "We can do something _you_ want to do."

Cameron considered the options for several moments, running through the games they had already played and what was still left to try before all at once, her mind made the intuitive connection of what he had done. She felt a flash of mild outrage that was supplanted by amusement.

"I've just realised something…" She accused. "Whether you win or lose, you're still going to have sex."

John grinned like a proverbial cat, content in his connivery as he made a move on the board. "That's how to always win, Cam. You have to rig it so that even if you lose, you've still got something to show for it."

His explanation was a bizarre synthesis of common skulduggery and misdirection, beclouding a dialectic logic she knew lay beneath.

She had known John in the future and the two where very different, but at some fundamental level they still thought alike, delving from the same well of philosophy and thinking that lay routed in a shared past. It gave her a quiet sense of hope toward the future, assuring that if Judgement Day was to fall again, all would not be lost in the fire.

They played for another few minutes, their investment in the game renewed with the mutual promise of lewd reward before a resounding click marked the end of the game, John placing a final stone in a _coup de grâce_ that swept the last remnants of her forces from the battlefield.

True to her word, Cameron was high-minded. "Congratulations, John. You're strategy was both subtle and decisive."

He smiled as he carefully swept the stones away. "If you like, we can arm wrestle next time."

Cameron felt a familiar fire begin to burn within her, the promise she had made in the event of defeat a delectable sentence she was eager to begin serving.

With one hand she slid the heavy table aside, the wooden legs screeching across the timber floor of the dining room before she descended upon him. John's expression was priceless, holding a handful of the monotone pebbles limply in his hand as she straddled his waist, sinking down on his lap and kissing him for all he was worth.

The stones tumbled from his grasp as her hands cradled the back of his head, her rounded belly pressing against his stomach as she held him to her, looting his mouth with her tongue.

"Do you want your winnings now, John?"

He felt as though he'd gone boss-eyed, voice shrivelled to a husk. "_Yes._"

She smiled wickedly, the way that made him want to lose control and ravage her utterly.

"Go to our room. I'll be there in a moment."

In an instant she dismounted him, leaving a howling emptiness of sensation where she had been as John tried to pull himself together. When he did he headed straight for their bedroom, closing the door and jumping on the big double bed as he kicked off his shoes and socks.

Minutes ticked by as he waited, but no Cameron, making him worried and he made to go and look for her before the door rattled with a thunderous knock.

"Who is it?"

"_Police!"_

An instinct of cold dread flashed through him before he bounced off the bed and slid silently to the door.

"What do you want?"

The door suddenly burst open and Cameron marched inside, dressed in a police officer's uniform and grabbed him firmly by the scruff of the neck. Her eyes blazed into him through nylon framed sunglasses that shone like mirrors, reflecting the shock on his face in shimmering dual opals.

"John Connor?"

He swallowed nervously. "Yes, _officer_."

She spun him around, pulling his hands behind his back and slapping on a pair of cuffs.

"You're under arrest."

She marched him into the room and pushed him down on the bed, looming over him with forbidding imminence, the law of the land her authority and a baton on her belt the means. John felt a bolt of excitement beneath the woman's authority, resistance useless and no hope of escape. There was something very Freudian in that.

"What's the charge?" His tone found defiance and he sat up straight, not going down without a fight.

"Fraternising with the enemy during a time of war, fathering a child with an enemy combatant…" Cameron thought fast. "…and jaywalking."

He was guilty and he knew it, but there was still one avenue left toward freedom.

"Hang on. Are you a real policewoman?"

"Of course I am."

"Like hell!" He huffed, clearly not convinced. "The police wouldn't send a pregnant woman on a bust! You're an impostor!"

Officer Phillips glared at him through her glasses, sliding them off in smooth singular motion before tossing them on the bed, levelling him with a stern gaze that brook no further insolence.

"Wise guy, huh? I know how to handle wise guys."

"You don't scare me! I know my rights!"

She drew her baton and thrust the end of it under his nose. "You've got the right to shut the hell up, scumbag!"

Suddenly her demeanour changed, melting to a shrug of affability and suggestion as she leered at him up and down, as though noticing his body for the first time.

"Of course… if you're desperate… there's a way you could avoid the charges."

It was his only chance, cooperate or face the music. He had to decide.

"I'll do whatever I have to, officer."

Her mouth curled in a fiendish grin, sliding her baton back onto her duty belt before shrugging the jacket off her shoulders. She smiled as he sat stupefied, eyes wide like he had never seen her body before as she revealed it to him in one fluid motion, lifting the shirt over her head.

John gawked at her perfection; alabaster skin and pale freckles, a blossoming bosom that bounced free of her shirt as his eyes fell down on her belly. Round and firm and spherical. Like she'd swallowed a basketball. The sacred vessel that carried the one thing in the world more precious than Cameron herself.

He braced against his restraints as she undid her pants, the black fabric pooling on the floor to leave Cameron Phillips before him in all her heavenly glory, the game of cops and robbers easily forgotten.

"You're beautiful, Cam…" The words mumbled out in a breathless whisper and she felt herself warming under his gaze, looking her over with the yearning hunger of a starving man that had discovered a packet of peanuts, the cuffs that bound his wrists the only thing stopping him from delving in to taste the salty goodness.

"Cam."

"John."

He looked up at her with failing restraint, passion burning in his eyes.

"Get me out of these damn cuffs…"

The screen door at the front of the house screeched open and a man stepped inside, his arms filled with two brown bags that he plonked down on the kitchen table before dashing to the security panel, tapping out the right code and killing the failsafe before it triggered.

He reached around behind him and pulled out his gun, a Glock 9mm that felt heavy in his hands. He pulled back the slider less than an inch, checking the chamber to reveal the round that lay inside, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

He froze as a dull thud came from down the corridor; something heavy falling on timber floorboards, muffled laughter the resulting accompaniment and he hefted the gun in his hand. He stalked the hallway with the weapon held low, ready for anything as he approached the master bedroom and moved his head close to the door, listening intently for signs of distress.

"_John? Cameron?_"

Charlie Dixon's voice was a timid whisper, barely making it through the door, but he wasn't brave enough to risk any more. He had a feeling what was going on, he just had to be certain.

He almost jumped out of his skin when a cry of ecstasy tore from within the lover's bedroom, the thankful shriek a bell toll of blessed commencement before the house was filled with the moans and squeals of rutting fervour. It grew louder and louder, the sounds of passion degenerating into rhythmic gasps and grunts, bed springs creaking in unison to the shameless broadcast of uncouth demands.

"Oh for crying out loud…" He holstered his gun in the back of his jeans, returning to the kitchen where he went straight for the draw of miscellanea, fishing out the headphones to his cell phone and jamming them in, the cries of unrestrained ardour dying to a muffle as he clicked on Lead Zeppelin and studiously set about unpacking the groceries.

He had always had a feeling something had been going on with those two, relishing the teasing he had given John when he and Cameron had first arrived those many months back.

"_Nothing going on, huh?"_

"_I guess you really like-liked her!"_

John had taken it all in good humour, silencing Charlie with the looks he and Cameron shared when they thought he wasn't looking. The mutual adoration, the tenderness. The hushed cries of ecstasy in the middle of the night.

Sarah had been remarkably prudish when dropping them off, making sure they had separate bedrooms and lecturing John until his ears hurt. The poor kid had turned every shade of red imaginable.

Of course, all that had fallen by the wayside by the first night and Charlie had soon relented, tired of them tiptoeing back and forth. He had even swapped rooms to give them the bigger bedroom.

_She was having his child for God-sake!_

Wary of what Sarah would think, he had planned a fabulous dinner for them all in an effort to smooth the blow. Just the four of them; a little wine for the over-twenties and some bonding time together.

_What's the worst that could happen…?_

####

It was early afternoon when Sarah Connor's jeep crunched onto the driveway, the column of the lighthouse casting an easterly shadow as ivy and tufts of wild lavender rustled in the ocean wind. Towering palm trees dotted the site, a former outpost upon a sandy bluff for a lonely soul that had passed away and left it all up for auction. A steal for the price she paid and a picturesque haven to boot.

She pulled to a stop outside the house, securing the hand break before killing the engine, feeling the ache in her back from the prolonged journey that had started the previous evening; hours behind her on a torturous road that had mesmerised her with its straightness.

"You made good time."

Sarah smiled as the familiar form of Charlie slid up next to the vehicle, his arms resting in the window ledge. It had been a while but he still looked the same. Maybe older and a little wiser, weathered by time and tragedy. But still the same old Charlie. The one that had asked her to marry him and the father her son never had.

In truth, the man was a saint, offering to take care of John for as long she needed him to. No questions, no outlay.

No complications or secrets.

She cracked a wry smile as she tried to get up. "Tell that to my ass."

A flash of dry humour graced his mouth, but he kept his peace, opting instead to open the door and offer her a gentlemanly hand of assistance. She smiled and took it, feeling tissue and sinew reposition as her body stood up straight.

"Thanks."

He shouldered her bag from the back seat and they went inside, the bucolic charm of the lighthouse exterior belying its peculiar heart of 70's plywood, a forged metal log burner, and the digital feed from a closed circuit surveillance system. The furniture was a blitz from Ikea; bookshelves and a wine rack mixed with what fixtures had graced the dwelling since its first construction, the TV and refrigerator the blessed exceptions.

The dog came to her immediately, appearing from nowhere with his ears back, frisking the new arrival with his snout. Once satisfied his demeanour melted, surrendering beneath the bliss of an ear scratch that made his hind leg flinch like a rabbit's, securing Sarah a loyal friend for life.

"Mom!"

A tuning fork went off in her heart as she heard her son's voice, hurrying toward her from down the corridor where she met him halfway, crushing him against her like a life preserver. Her hands clawed fists of his t-shirt as she buried her face in his neck, the smell and feeling of him like a rejuvenation, making all in the universe right.

"I missed you."

He smiled, hugging her tighter in arms stronger than she remembered.

"Missed you too."

She could have gladly held him for hours, the pillars of her existence coming back into alignment after months apart, their only contact until now via email and the telephone.

"I was going to, _WHOA…!!_"

Sarah sprung from his grasp like a scalded cat, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she absorbed the blossomed figure of Cameron. Radiant and content. Hair and skin glorious. She stood off down the hallway, typically spartan, but Sarah felt an air of uncertainty about her, triggered in no small part by her arrival.

John smiled and stepped towards her, taking her hand and pulling her before his mother.

"So… what do you think?"

Sarah felt how happy he was, his manner and body language that of prideful parent, bolstered in some congenial way that made him sure and confident in a way that he had never been before. She looked Cameron over, the mound of her stomach that for better or worse carried the grandchild she had been certain she'd never live long enough to see.

Cautiously and without words, her hand reached out, looming closer in an agonising motion until her palm rested against Cameron's swollen belly, like she was touching the casing of a bomb.

A feeling crept into her being, one that Derek had warned her about. Something insane and optimistic that made all the anger and mistrust ebb away, surrendering her to the grudging approval she knew meant more to her son than anything.

"I think you guy's did great," She nodded with acceptance, burying ill feeling inside. "And I hope it's a girl."

John and Cameron shared a knowing, sideways glance, grinning like a pair of idiots.

She didn't want to. She knew it was wrong and unnatural. But her son's happiness made all that irrelevant, forcing her arms out to take them both in a hug, holding him tight to her as she kissed his cheek and patting Cameron lightly on the back.

Charlie stood off in the kitchen, a small smile on his face as he watched the family reconnect, the anxiety he had felt the previous days dwindling down to naught.

_So far, so good._

####

Stainless metal cutlery scraped against porcelain dishware in the dissonant ambiance of dinnertime harmony. Charlie had cooked the salmon he had brought earlier that morning, the ones Cameron had casual spotted and made subtle enquiries about all day. She hadn't had fish before and she was a little uncertain, more cautious than ever since John had given her escargot, pointedly withholding vital information until she had placed it in her mouth.

She shivered at the memory, remembering in fine detail the look on his face when she had propelled it out of her mouth across the living room.

"You'll like salmon, Cam." He had promised, and he was right. The beautiful pink flesh all drenched in garlic and melted butter, falling apart in her mouth in heavenly segments.

John and Cameron sat opposite one another, making eyes as she drew the ball of her foot up his leg, drawing perilously high before retreating downward again, leaving no doubt what she wanted for dessert.

Sarah and Charlie sat at either end, eating quietly as something classical played low on the living room stereo, a bottle of white split between them that gave her a warm and healthy glow. The imminent parents talked all through the meal, like they were the only two people in the room, and Charlie had observed her reactions.

Sarah had to admit, Cameron _had_ changed. Even the dog was confused, sitting watchful at her side and scrutinizing every mouthful as John reached for the salt shaker, sprinkling it over his food.

"Too much salt is bad for you, John." Cameron warned, the long-term dangers of sodium still unknown to science.

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, _officer_."

The moment he said it, ice water flooded his veins, casting his eyes sideways around the table. He prayed that his mother wouldn't pick up on it, humiliation perched on a knife-edge and for several long moments, no one said anything.

Then Sarah's brow furrowed, the wine loosening her tongue. "Did you just call her '_officer'_?"

John's brow broke out into a cold sweat, fidgeting in his seat as adrenaline quivered his fingers, mind scurrying for something credible to say.

"Uhh… _yes_."

At the far end of the table Charlies' shoulders began shake, unable to contain it any longer, eyes watering as he crushed his hand over his mouth and his teeth dug into his cheek. Cameron studiously looked down at her plate, pocking at her food as her mouth curled into a fiendish smile.

With the foreboding and inevitable doom of a British heavy metalist, Sarah pushed blindly on.

"What for?"

Her eyes remained fixed on him, holding John in place like the beams of an unstoppable freight train.

_Say something sensible, John._

"Because… I _respect_ her so much."

Charlie sniggered loudly and Cameron looked away, blowing the whole gaff, turning John bright red under the gaping gaze of his mother as the penny finally dropped with a horrifying clang. She looked at her son as though seeing him for the first time, eyebrows nearly crawling off her forehead, her imagination filling the gaps between what had been spoken as though they had been expertly crafted by a suicidal novelist.

At that moment, John wanted to crawl under the table and die.

Picking up her fork, Sarah returned diligently to her food, turning as red as John as she banished the thoughts from her mind.

"Forget I asked! Forget I said anything!"

####

Evening rolled in as the relentless waves of the Pacific Ocean crashed against the rocks and sand, drawing in toward land as the sun set on the horizon, turning the water into a shimmering mirror of liquid gold as the heavens began to shine.

The shore washed up around their naked feet as John and Cameron walked arm-in-arm across the sand, the lighthouse a tiny spire in the distance, its reflecting lens little more now than an inoperable museum piece supplanted by radar and satellite navigation.

Neither said a word and neither needed to, enjoying the view and each other's company as the day wound down to a close.

"Dinner went well."

Cameron broke the silence, palpable amusement in her tone.

"Oh, God! Don't remind me!" He cringed, colouring up all over again in the rays of impending twilight. "I need to block that out."

Though she didn't laugh, he knew she did inside, his girlfriend always sparing in emotional displays. No jokes or hysterics. Making it all the more meaningful when she did.

From across the beach, the dog bounded towards them, a small rubber ball clutched in his jaws that he deposited in front of their feet, staring up at them expectantly as his tail wagged about.

John laughed as he reached down to retrieve it. "I think my arm will drop off before he gets tired."

She reached out her hand in offering and he placed the toy in her palm, the dogs' eyes following it like a NASA tracking system as Cameron took a throwing stance, launching the ball down the beach as though it were propelled by a rocket.

Undeterred, the Labrador bolted after it, tearing off into the distance in a shower of sand.

John huffed sardonically. "I hope he can find his way back."

"Charlie has stated that he knows 'where his bread's buttered'." She recalled. "But he _will_ be some time."

He smiled and pulled her by the hand, leading her up the beach to the sturdy berm that had accumulated across the centuries, dotted with patches of wild grass and sand dunes where he pulled her close to him.

"Just long enough…"

He leaned down and kissed her, hands wrapping around her smaller frame and pressing her to him, feeling how firm she was beneath as her arms crossed behind his neck. In no time John felt her weight heaving him down, forcing him where she wanted down onto the sand in a deft combination of unyielding strength and a detailed knowledge of human anatomy.

She fell down on top of him as his back found the sand, holding him immobile as she kissed his mouth, feeling himself surrender to the firm and confident onslaught of a woman that knew what she wanted. It took some effort, but he eventually rolled her over, doing things with his hands to which she had no defence, rolling onto the warm aggregate where they lay together on their sides.

So much of their relationship felt like a role reversal. Him the strategist and technically minded, the _idea-man_, happy to plan the mission and watch it unfold or go head to head with a supercomputer. Her the balls-out alpha female, a woman of action and incendiary who cared nothing for the minutia of maintaining a supply line or a means of retreat.

They were a good match. Balanced and complementary. Meant for each other. There was nothing more certain in his mind.

"Want to hear something cool?" He asked, mystery colouring his voice.

She thought about it for a moment. He loved that she did that.

"Yes."

"Nine years ago today… we first met."

Cameron's face grew into the slightest smile. Of course she had remembered, her internal chronometer flawless, but she was touched none-the-less that he had recalled.

"Nine years, twenty-three hours, fourteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds." She lightly corrected. "Chronologically speaking."

He loved _that_ too.

"Okay, nine-_ish_ years, as long as I'm within the window."

He sat up and took both her hands, bringing her up with him and drawing the strength he needed that she had in spades, rubbing her fingers with his thumbs.

"Do you love me, Cam?"

She smiled and nodded. "Very much."

"Would you do something important for me if I asked?"

"Yes."

"It's kind of a big deal."

"That's alright."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm certain."

"Good."

John took a fortifying breath, teetering on the precipice of disaster or triumph as a lump rose in his throat, petrified beyond all logical reason as he reached into his pocket and grasped his hand around the tiny case.

"Cameron Ph…"

"Yes."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, euthanized at the tip of his tongue as he stared at her, the plan he had agonised over for two whole weeks mired on an invisible sandbar.

"No… Cam," He objected meekly. "You don't know what I'm going to ask."

"Yes I do. And the answer is yes."

It was a little unorthodox; unlikely to go down in the annals of history, but then so much of their relationship was like that. The pressure blew off in a matter of seconds and he was left with the joy of her answer.

"Okay… _awesome_! _Fantastic_! Not exactly according to plan, but alright!"

"We can do it as soon as we return to Los Angeles."

His eagerness grew. "Even better!"

"I'm glad that you have finally asked me, John. Though I would have preferred it to have been sooner." Her hand rested on her stomach and he felt a twinge of regret.

"I know, I'm sorry. I was just trying to get to grips with everything, and I didn't want to do it _just_ because of the baby."

She nodded with the quiet wisdom of a sage. "That's alright. So long as you've come to your senses…"

"I have."

"…and don't be concerned about your mother's reaction…"

"I'm not."

"…or the body."

John's universe and everything in it came to a crashing halt, stars and planets bunching up behind him as he slammed on the brakes, her words ringing out in a cavernous echo of realisation.

"_The_ _body?_"

She nodded gravely, grim determination steeling her resolve.

John rolled his tongue in his mouth, prodding the side of his cheek as the prospect of miscommunication loomed ever likelier.

"Cam…"

"Yes, John?"

"Just for the record… what _exactly_ did you think I was going to ask you?"

She smiled in triumph, looking happier than if he'd handed her a bucket of chocolate ice-cream and a cooking spoon.

"You have finally decided that I am to terminate Derek Reese."

In another time and place, John was certain this might have been funny.

"No, Cam. I'm sorry. I don't want you to terminate Derek Reese."

The light in her face slowly extinguished, the brightness replaced with the mordant disappointment of brazen reality.

"Oh…"

She sounded genuinely disappointed, ruining the moment and all chance of recovery as the sun began to dip past the horizon, the window closing on the perfect moment as he buried the case in his pocket and closed his eyes in dismay.

"I'll marry you though if you want."

His eyes snapped open in an instant, looking at her curiously as a frown furrowed his forehead, feeling as though she had just swept the rug from under his feet or been replaced by comic impostor.

Cameron's mouth remained neutral for many moments before it curled into an evil grin, stating clearly before she spoke it aloud, that in every possible and conceivable sense;

"_Gotcha!_"

John pounced on her and she squealed in delight, rolling them across the sand in a lovers tussle as the dog arrived back with the ball, dropping it in an instant as he saw his people playing and muscled his way in between them.

* * *

_Well, that's it. Hope you enjoyed it. I thought about getting to the birth and what happens afterward, but it was too much for this story._

_I have an idea for a sequel in mind, but it needs a lot of fleshing out. I'm open to suggestions of what you'd like to see next, so please feel free to make them. I have an idea for a prequel as well, set in the future about how Cameron is reprogrammed._

_A huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to write a review, it is very much appreciated, and I look forward to the story being evaluated as a whole. Constructive criticism is quiet welcome._


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